Not sure why but I'm being hit with so many little bugs this winter. I've always been mostly hardy and enjoyed the colder months, but maybe I'm getting old. 33 now. Sniffles, sneezes and chills this morning. No coughing luckily. Aside from necessary trips to the eye doctor or to buy food for my parents so they don't have to go out, I've been sticking to lockdown rules.


Cover Art: Jack Wayne

Chapter 133


Jaune asked Winter for help finding a suitable store and was unsurprised to find out the SDC had a dedicated tailor in each and every Kingdom. Naturally, a day wasn't time enough to custom make a suit for him, but the tailor had his own contacts who could provide two more reasonably sized for him and his companion. Bertilak was certainly the more difficult, being so tall and broad.

"This is pointless."

"This could earn you millions," Jaune countered, and Bertilak shut up and let the tailor measure him soon after. Thankfully, the man didn't clad Bertilak in green but a dark blue suit to Jaune's charcoal grey. The bill had already been prepaid by the SDC.

At this point, Crown had to know Bertilak had gone rogue if they were watching, but there was no way around that and Jaune didn't want to leave the man to Jax's Semblance, not if it might reveal things about him. They climbed into a private car outside the shopping district – another SDC affiliated partner – and let the chauffer take them toward Rashem's home.

The glass barrier between driver and passengers cut off all conversation, but that was no reason to talk overmuch. Bertilak kept an elbow on the door and stared out the window, clearly agitated by the tight suit and confined movements it left him with. Jaune knew the pain but had gotten used to it.

"Be on your best behaviour and you'll probably walk out of this with one of the most well paying jobs in the Kingdom. You don't have to fake anything – just don't be antagonistic."

"I'm not a child."

Could have fooled me. Even Vernal knows when and where to be quiet. Bertilak really did remind him of Cardin, if Cardin graduated, grew stronger and kept hold of his arrogance. That didn't make him or Cardin bad people – for all that he'd been bullied by the latter. It just meant they were flawed. Everyone was. It won't be my problem anyway. Bertilak can stay here once Crown are dealt with.

They had to be dealt with now, too. Ozpin had raised a good point about how far they might go and who they might align with. They didn't know about Salem yet, but it would only take Jax brainwashing someone from Ozpin's side, and then the news would be out. Salem wouldn't be above offering them Vacuo to have their loyalty, especially if they were as anti-dust as Bertilak suggested. Crown and Salem were practically a match made in heaven, and that was why they couldn't stay.

He'd normally have qualms on removing someone before they crossed the line, but then Crown had been busy building an army of brainwashed thralls and selling off children, so there went that.

A speaker in the back buzzed as the chauffer spoke. "Sirs. We are arriving."

Jaune wasn't the only one to crane his neck curiously to see out the front windscreen. Bertilak muttered under his breath but there was no hiding the awe for Rashem's home – or mansion as it should have more accurately been called. Beautiful white stone gleamed in the sun as a huge building with two wings flanking an open, green lawn spread out before them. A circular gravel drive led to a parking lot off to the left, with a pristine swimming pool set to the right, palm trees rising up and artfully cared for.

Tall windows and brightly coloured curtains fluttered from the mansion itself, with arrays of roses and orchids and other bright flowers dotted around the outer edge. The gardens spilled out behind it, not flaw lawn but bunches of trees, bushes and even what looked to be the start of a small vineyard out back. The outer perimeter was guarded not by a wall, but by tall hedges dotted with pink flowers.

The wheels of the car crunched slowly through the gravel as the chauffer brought them to a stop outside. Rather than have butlers to greet them, Rashem stood on the first step with a rather large but friendly looking woman beside him. He wore a crisp, white suit himself, but he made it look far warmer than Jacques Schnee ever could, likely because his skin was dark and his eyes bright and dancing.

"My friend." Rashem greeted him with a warm hug the moment he stepped off the gravel and onto the walkway. The man squeezed him tight and rocked from side to side. "You have come. How has your time in Vacuo been? I hope the storm did not catch you by surprise."

"The storm was fine, Rashem." Jaune patted the man's back. "I spent it in a bar that got quite lively. This is Bertilak, a companion of mine." He looked to the woman, clearly Rashem's wife. "And this is…?"

"Rosa." The lady of the house smiled politely.

"My love and life is what she is! And what a better man she has made me. Many of the ideas to improve Vacuo have come from her!"

Jaune laughed and shook her hand. The look on her face said she had to deal with this all the time, and that she'd been hearing about the mythical Jaune Ashari for far too long. "Ignore my dear husband. He gets so excited about things. And wanting to help Vacuo was his idea, I just helped with the details. He would have thrown money on the streets to cure homelessness."

"Rosa had me build homes instead. Affordable homes and also hostels for the young. But let's not talk about me. Come in! Come in! My home is your home; my wine is your wine; let us share clear water and bread together."

"I accept your hospitality," Bertilak said quietly. "And share my water with you."

"Uh. I accept your hospitality and share my water with you," Jaune echoed, sensing some custom. Bertilak rolled his eyes and Rashem laughed, welcoming them inside.

/-/

The meal and everything involved was opulent and fine, though now that he'd experienced life within the SDC, it felt much more restrained. Realistic. The food was good, but it wasn't overly small and garishly presented at the cost of taste. The chicken was chicken, not some endangered bird hunted down from the far reaches of civilisation. The bread was local, not imported from the moon.

It was all wonderfully cooked, however. The portions were generous and varied, and Bertilak was able to gorge himself with only the most minimal of input in the conversation. Most of it was kept going by Rashem, Rosa and Jaune's answers to their questions, many of which were about his life in Vale, Emerald and also Vernal.

"We are trying for a family as well, you see," Rashem said, reaching over to squeeze Rosa's hand. "And the stars have shone on us for my darling is now two months pregnant."

"Congratulations." Jaune said.

Rosa smiled. "Thank you. Rashem wants to name it after you. I hope you don't mind if I put my foot down on that."

"Not at all. Jaune is a terrible name for a girl."

"It could have been Joan," Rashem complained. "Sadly, I cannot fight her. Every attempt ends in failure. Tell me, though. Will you accept the honour of being his or her godfather?"

Jaune leaned back, touched. "I… Are you sure? I'm so far away from Vacuo…"

"It's more in spirit than anything," Rosa said. "My family is large and if anything happened to us, our child would go to them. Rashem does want you involved in their life, however, and I cannot say that is a bad thing."

"Then yes, I'll accept. And I'll do my best."

Rashem called a toast and they all – barring Rosa, who drank fruit juice – raised their glasses. "To my wife's health and our future child, and to Vacuo! May they both grow and flourish."

"Cheers."

"Cheers," Bertilak echoed, downing his.

"Cheers," Jaune said, and then set his glass down. "And if your child ever wants to become a huntsman, let me know. I'll train them myself. On that note, though…"

"Yes. Yes. Your information." Rashem waved his hand as if to say he'd always planned it, even if Jaune had meant to talk about Crown. "I have been hard at work as promised. Your lady is a very hard one to locate, but I was able to find some information on her."

That caught his attention. "You were?"

"Distant information. Very much out of date. I started asking around the Council and records – we have our own, but also the city's. Alas, this Omaira has not paid tax, bills or even owned a bank account in the city. There are no records of criminal activity or them offering an ID card anywhere, either. It looked as though she did not exist at all, but I trusted you would not waste my time with such, so I looked deeper. Or…" he admitted, "My personal investigators did."

"You didn't have to go that far-"

"It is but a small way to pay you back, my friend. And it is done. Complain not. Where was I? Ah yes, they decided to look further back, and they did find that a woman named Omaira matching your information was born, educated and lived in Vacuo. And that she disappeared some twelve years ago."

Promising! "What happened?"

"There is not much information to go on. It is an urban legend now. To hear it, Omaira was born to normal parents with two older brothers and, according to school reports, was a happy and studious child loved by her family and loving them in return. All seemed well, but something happened to her on her thirteenth birthday. We know not what, only that a great storm struck her family's house and only her family's house – a freak weather phenomenon that even now cannot be explained. The family was killed, their bodies found with flesh ripped from their bones by hot, sandy wind. All were accounted for, all but Omaira's body, and the guards on the walls told of a screaming figure of a child, wreathed in bright light, charging out the walls and into the desert." Rashem paused. "That was the last anyone saw of Omaira."

Silence fell on the dinner, until Bertilak scoffed and said, "Sounds like an old wives' tale."

Jaune knew better. Omaira had obviously inherited the power of the Summer Maiden with no warning and no explanation and had lost control of it. Her family had paid the price where she, likely consumed by guilt and grief, fled into the desert. He knew it wasn't Ozpin's fault, but the power of the maidens really did cause more trouble than it was worth.

"It does sound strange," Rashem admitted. "But this was backed up with evidence. Omaira did exist and her family did perish. Between the talks of demons and Grimm and other fanciful things, the police officer in charge of the case ruled it a likely case of an unlocked and indiscriminate Semblance gone wild."

"Makes more sense," Bertilak said with a grunt. "Some sand control or sandstorm Semblance. Maybe she got angry on her birthday and lost control of it. Happens when you're young."

"Omaira had no formal training," Rashem said.

"Hm. Still possible. Just less likely."

"It's a better idea than any other," Jaune deflected. "That's not why we're after her. Omaira has done a lot since then and we need to talk to her. You said there's no record of her coming back to Vacuo, Rashem? That means she must still be out there."

The talk of wild and unpredictable sandstorms in the Bone Lands more than fit with the first manifestation of her power. Omaira must have been hiding within, either stealing from caravans for food or just visiting the far-flung villages and tribes that wouldn't know of her and her legend.

"This is great information, Rashem. Thank you."

"It pleases me that I could help, my friend! You will always be welcome here."

"There's something else we have to speak of before we go, however." Jaune said. "And a big part of why I brought Bertilak here with me. It's not the best of news. I suggest you both sit down for it…"

It would be an understatement to say the news shocked the couple. Rosa looked faint while Rashem was initially stunned and then bristled with anger, holding his wife's hand as Jaune relayed Bertilak's story about their plans for Rashem and the RTE.

"Why?" he finally asked. "Why would they? I am good for Vacuo and surely they should want for their Kingdom to prosper. Especially if they wish to rule it!"

"It has to be them who does it," Jaune explained. "No one joins a revolution against a good system. They need you and the Council to be corrupt and incompetent so they can whip the people up in their favour. That's not going to happen while you improve lives."

"It's also fame," Bertilak said gruffly. "Jax is arrogant. He has to be the one to fix things. He has to be known, famous, loved. You're doing better than he ever did and he doesn't like that."

Jealousy? It wasn't an angle Jaune considered but Bertilak knew Jax better than he did. Petty of him to let his ego take over like that, and more reason why the man wasn't fit to be in charge of anything.

"We'll have to increase security," Rosa said. "Our baby…"

"It won't work." Jaune interrupted. "Jax's Semblance is the ability to mind control people. If you surround yourself with guards, that'll only make it easier for him. As far as we can tell, he's limited to weaker people. If he wasn't, he'd have taken over Shade and used the huntsmen to take over the Kingdom already. That's why Bertilak is here. He's the strongest huntsman in Vacuo."

Bertilak nodded proudly.

"Are you saying he is to protect us?" Rashem asked.

"I'm suggesting you hire him for that purpose. He's currently working for Crown but only for money. He has no loyalty to them."

"What's to say he will be any more loyal to us?" Rosa asked.

"Because Ashari will kill me if I'm not." Bertilak answered for him. He closed his eyes, grunting harshly. "I'm the strongest huntsman in Vacuo. He's stronger. If I mess up or put you in danger, he'll hunt me down and kill me."

Rashem and Rosa looked to Jaune, who nodded slowly. He hadn't brought it up with Bertilak, but that was quite clearly the cost of betrayal. Bertilak planned for this. I guess the fight really was a show of faith. By showing me his Semblance and style, he handed me the tools to defeat him. What better way is there of proving he'll stay loyal?

He wasn't the big, dumb brute Carmine had made him out to be.

"I'll do the job." Bertilak said. "And I know everyone from Crown and what they can do. They won't have a chance of sneaking in here."

"If my friend trusts in you, I shall as well," Rashem said. "You will be paid handsomely. Protect us, good huntsman, and you shall want for nothing. But what of Crown, Jaune? We cannot hide forever."

"You won't have to. Leave them to me."

/-/

"So," Qrow said. "Your contact find anything?"

"An old legend of a girl suddenly going wild with power and blowing up a home nearby, then fleeing into the desert, never to return. Her name was Omaira," he said, finally having an excuse for why he might know the name. "It sounds to me like she received the maiden power suddenly and couldn't control it."

"And her family?"

"Dead. Parents and two brothers."

Qrow sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Shit. That had to have done a number on her. Poor thing. I wonder who the prior maiden was to think of her."

"Maybe an aunt or relative. Or maybe someone just walked past her a day before. Ozpin didn't exactly make the transfer process a sensible one. According to my contact, Omaira hasn't come back to Vacuo since. If her power really is sandstorms, she has to be in the Bone Lands."

"Small problem." Qrow said. "Crown are telling me they found her, too. And that she was in Vacuo."

Doubt and suspicion mingled together but the city had been hit by a sandstorm. Who was to say that wasn't Omaira returning and covering her tracks? With everyone forced to go around hooded, a sandstorm was a good cover for her to return for supplies. It wasn't impossible that she'd come close.

The guards on the gates certainly weren't checking every person who came in during a sandstorm. They just made sure they weren't Grimm. How a bunch of criminals would know was more circumspect, but maybe she came in via the same channels smugglers would.

Or Crown were bullshitting them to get the reward money promised.

"Well, what are they saying? What's the Intel?"

"They want to meet with us to discuss it."

"Oh really?" Jaune snarked. "How convenient. And is Jax to be there?"

"Actually, no. The message came from Carmine, who said it was a private one from Gillian, the – in her words – much more reasonable of the two. Gillian has offered to meet us at a private venue of our choosing, the better to show her peaceful intentions. It can be open, middle of the day and we can bring whomever we want as long as we assure some level of privacy and her safety."

That was a lot of trust to put in their hands. Maybe she could afford to, knowing they served Beacon and thus weren't likely to suddenly attack her. Still, it was more than he expected. I thought they'd want to lure us down somewhere where Jax could ambush and try to take us over. Is this really legitimate?

If so, this could be a good chance to scope Crown out and see if Bertilak was telling the truth or exaggerating. He couldn't really trust any of them as Bertilak could be lying to get the money and Crown out the picture in one fell swoop. Proof first, then action.

"I say we do it somewhere nice and open," Qrow said. "There's a bistro down on the waterfront by the docks. The area's loud enough with all the shipping that we'd go unnoticed, but also busy enough that they wouldn't dare start anything. It's also open so I can take flight if I need to."

Arguably, that was the best bet. Even if Jax could mind control him, if Qrow escaped and went to Raven, she'd open a portal, take him back and they could then work on snapping him out of it. Or Raven could just kill Jax.

"Alright. You tell Gillian we'll meet but make it clear Jax isn't invited."

/-/

Gillian Asturias was not a woman you could miss in a crowd and that was clearly by design, because as much as she might have wished it was her presence of authority, it was all her outfit. She was a fair-skinned woman with black hair hung in loops on either side of her head, but her dress was a shimmering monstrosity with layers of silk in shades of blue, white, green and purple that rippled and moved like water. It was tied with a silver chain at her waist, but all that could have been ignored because she was a woman wearing blue, white, green and purple on the docks where everyone else was dressed in much more realistic, everyday clothing.

Winter Schnee was rich. As were Jacques and Weiss, but they didn't dress it up like this. They wore white as a nod to their family, but otherwise it was a dress or suit as the occasion dictated. Gillian looked like she'd gone out her way to find something that stood out, all the better to be noticed.

It reeked of a person trying too hard.

"Welcome," she said, as though the bistro was her own and she the proprietor. Carmine stood beside and behind her, a loyal guard. "It is an auspicious occasion that brings us here together. Let us sit, drink and break our fast. In the name of Asturias and the Kingdom of Vacuo, I swear that no harm shall come to you under my gaze."

Jaune noted that the effort wasn't solely reserved for her dress.

"Yo."

In return, Qrow's quick greeting must have irked her greatly. Jaune found himself smiling and echoing it with a bored, one-handed wave. Qrow dragged a stool out and sat, leaving Jaune to take the other, carefully keeping Carmine between him and Gillian.

"So, we're here as requested. What is this information you have for us?"

"Let us not focus on business so soon. We are here as emissaries from our differing organisations. Should we not take measure of one another? If fortune favours us, we may work together again in the future."

Jaune tapped his fingers on the table to draw her attention. "We're not interested in your games, child. We've better things to do than play make believe with you."

It felt good to be able to call her that. They were children compared to his age now – at best twenty to twenty-five years old. He caught the way she bristled, even if she did a good job of hiding it behind picking up a cup and cradling it before her mouth. Her sleeve slipped down to show a black crown-shaped mark that he could tell was branded into her skin. It looked just like Adam's facial scar, the same blackened skin with a reddish outline.

"I see." Gillian's sharp eyes watched him. "Carmine told me as such. You're a man focused on business and business alone. I don't personally believe it wise to insult others, and I won't insult you now by dragging this on. We have sighted the individual you are looking for – she approached the city under the shelter of the recent storm. A food store was attacked, and its contents stolen, though thankfully no one was hurt. No wagon left the city but along one of our… more clandestine routes, a woman was seen leaving with the storm."

"With the storm?" Qrow asked.

"A curious depiction by a trusted colleague of mine, but one all the same. I trust her eyes. She said that this woman seemed to move as though she were its epicentre, as though she was not burdened by it but instead invigorated."

That sounds like Omaira. Jaune sent Qrow a quick look and a nod.

"Which way did she go?"

"South-west. Toward the Bone Lands."

Nothing new and nothing he hadn't already found from Rashem. This meeting could have been skipped entirely, but Crown had still technically fulfilled their end of the bargain. At least they knew she was active, alive and close.

"The information is good," Qrow said. "You've earned your money."

Gillian inclined her head, smiling pleasantly. "Crown is prepared to assist with your target if you wish it."

"That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure? We know the desert well, including the Bone Lands. I'm prepared to have Carmine escort you either alone or with a team of our finest huntsmen. They would be under your command and would-"

"He said that won't be necessary," Jaune interrupted, leaning forward. He watched Carmine stiffen but not intercept. Was that a sign Gillian could defend herself? The woman was a huntress, sure, but not even the best huntress could fight in a dress like that. It was too long and there was too much for him to grab onto.

"I was led to believe you were quite the charming individual, Mr Ashari-Schnee. Has something untoward happened that has you on edge? Crown has, to the best of my knowledge, done nothing to upset you."

Qrow must have been thinking the same but the huntsman trusted him enough to stay quiet and see where he was going. It helped that he was paying the extortionate fee for Crown's support.

"I'm confident in our own ability to manage the desert. As for Crown, well, I've not been overly impressed with your work so far." He let that sink in and watched Gillian's eyes narrow. "Vacuo has been doing well for itself, very well since RTE started up. I'm not sure why the people should consider supporting you."

"If `good` is considered giving back a pittance of the money you make off the hard work of the Vacuan people then yes, they do good. That is only one business, however. What of the Council? What do they offer other than their own self-serving interests and empty promises?"

"How is that any different to you?"

Gillian flashed her wrist and the brand. "We are fated to rule. We-"

"Fate is an excuse used by those trying to justify their actions!" Jaune spat angrily. "I killed the last person who spoke of destiny after harming one of my friends. I cut her head from her shoulders."

"It is fortunate, then, that I do not seek to harm any friend of yours."

Jaune smiled grimly. "Have you had your people follow us?"

"I have not."

"I can tell. Otherwise you'd know I spent this morning at the home of my good friend and business partner, dining in his mansion and talking about the future of Vacuo and the RTE." He didn't need to say whom, and he saw Gillian's eyes widen, and Carmine's face pale. "He asked me to become godfather to his unborn child. I accepted. Rashem is a close friend of mine. It would hurt me deeply if anything were to happen to him."

Gillian's tongue poked out to lick her lips. She swallowed, sitting back in her chair while Qrow gawked and said, "Wait, you mean the Rashem? CEO of RTE – the second richest guy on Remnant!? That was your contact!?"

Jaune nodded, eyes on Gillian Asturias. "It is. He's an old friend of mine."

"Our plans are not set in stone," Gillian recovered smoothly and spoke quickly. "We often make amendments – it's inevitable with such a large transition. I see no reason we can't accommodate RTE more fully into our plans. In fact, if he were to agree to follow us then we could offer him so much more than the Council ever could."

"Rashem isn't interested in your power fantasies any more than I am."

"Then he can bide his time and ignore us!" she said. The anger returned whenever he called it a fantasy, whenever he implied her claim wasn't real. "His life won't change if Vacuo is ruled by them or us."

"You can't rile the people up against the Council when they're doing well."

"But they are not doing well, are they? Your friend is doing well. RTE is saving the economy. That is no work of the Council, so why should they reap the benefits of it? Why should they have any authority when it is another who did all the hard work?"

"You mean like Malik the Sunderer and you?"

Gillian gaped, eyes and mouth wide.

"After all," he said, "You and Jax haven't done anything to earn your desired position either. You haven't improved the lives of people in Vacuo – you've made them worse. You're riding on the coattails of a man long dead, and all because of some flimsy claim to a monarchy that hasn't existed for hundreds of years."

"That is different-"

"It is the same. You blame the Council for having no hand in this and you're no better. That makes you a hypocrite."

"Did you come here with the express intent of insulting me, Ashari?" she finally snapped. Gone were the airs, the smiles and the royal tone. Now, he could see the fiery huntress underneath. "What is the point? Come here, insult me and make me snap? Well, congratulations. I'm angry. Does this benefit you somehow!?"

Jaune laughed.

No one else did.

"It's pretty arrogant to assume this was all about you, Queenie." The familiar nickname had her bristling. "Oh yes, Carmine told me a lot about you, maybe even more than she realised. But the real information came from someone else."

"Bertilak," Carmine hissed. "I knew it. What is this, then? An ambush? We're in public. You can't attack us here or you'd be arrested."

"It is an ambush," Jaune admitted. "But we're not the ones springing it. You are."

Carmine balked.

Gillian laughed. "What? Nonsense. We came in good… faith…"

Looking around, the huntress stilled. Everyone else around them had already gone as such, dock workers putting down their equipment, diners ignoring their food, waitresses and waiters placing down trays and picking up knives.

They had surrounded them now, well over a hundred people – most civilians – but all of them silent, blank and slowly forming a ring around their table. Outside the bistro, the docks were filled with people, hooded and cloaked. It was a scene straight out of a zombie movie, the four of them the only ones unaffected by some terrible infection.

"I wasn't trying to antagonise you into acting, Queenie." Jaune said. "After all, Carmine and Bertilak both agreed that you were the reasonable one. The smart one." His lips curled up. "That implies your brother is a stupid hothead prone to making bad decisions, especially when he's angry."

Gillian trembled. "No. I told him not to!"

As one, the crowd chanted. "Long live the King!"

Jaune's hand slid to Crocea Mors. Qrow had already slipped Harbinger onto the table, idly eyeing the various bruisers and thugs as he finished his drink and set the glass down. He didn't look overly worried, at least not for his health.

"For the record. This?" Jaune nodded to the horde surrounding them. "This was a bad decision for him."


Viva la revolution?


Next Chapter: 5th December

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