Here we go!
Chapter 7
"Ninety-nine innocent men on the wall, ninety-nine innocent men. You push one down, Grimm toss it around, ninety-eight innocent men on the wall. Ninety-eight innocent men on the wall. Ninety-eight innocent men-"
Jaune's eye twitched as he plodded along burdened by several heavy packs, vision blocked by Tyrian's tail wagging left and right as he sang. Salem clung to his back, using him like a horse – not that the idiot cared. If anything, he was ecstatic to be used in such a way. And worse, he kept singing jovially.
"-push one down, Grimm toss it around, ninety-seven innocent men on the wall!"
"Can you please stop!?" Jaune cried. "I'm losing my mind."
"To suspense?" Salem craned her neck back to look at him. "I must admit I am curious as well. What happens when the men on the wall reach zero? Does the hypothetical singer lose any sacrifices to throw to the pack of Beowolves and lose his own life as a result? It would be an ironic and justifiable end to someone pushing his fellows to their death to preserve his own existence."
"That's not-"
"Tyrian!" she ordered. "Keep singing! I must know the answer!"
"Your wish is my command! Ninety-seven innocent men on the wall. Ninety-seven innocent men-"
He was going to go crazy. Crazier than he already was to be following these two around. Not like he had a choice. The packs he was carrying weren't individually heavy, but three at once had his back close to breaking and every step a gigantic effort. That he'd made it this far along the beaten dirt road was a miracle. The burning port village was long gone, the verdant canopy blocking out even the pillar of smoke left behind.
They'd passed by a few stone markers along the way, stacked up tall to show some degree of civilisation. Ansel did the same, using the obviously manmade arrangements to subtly inform travellers that they were passing through an area with people living there. It was surprising to see Mistral doing the same thing as Vale, but maybe the practice was older than the Kingdoms. His sisters used to lay flowers on them while he would balance on top, at least until he'd slipped, broken his arm and been scolded by his mom.
"Sixty-two innocent men on the wall. Sixty-two innocent men…"
Jaune's knees struck the dirt. "I can't continue!" he called hoarsely, covered in sweat and broken under the weight of his burden. He swung the packs off, letting Gillian – the cat Salem had apparently named – hop off and pad around to his front.
Tyrian stopped and turned back, letting Salem see Jaune's moment of weakness and tut loudly.
"Pathetic. You are exhausted already? I'm royalty unused to harsh travel such as this myself but you don't see me complaining, do you?"
"You're not walking! Nor carrying anything!"
"I carry the weight of responsibility, Jaune, not that you would understand. Alas, we'll have to set camp here, Tyrian," she said with a put-upon sigh, as if she were some parent dealing with an unruly child who'd decided to throw a hissy fit. The faunus dropped to all fours, head bowed to the floor so that Salem could first sit upon his back and then daintily step off. "You have done well to take me this far."
"My body and soul belongs to you, my goddess!"
"Yes. Quite." Even Salem appeared to find that distasteful. "Since Jaune appears to be in a state of fatigue, why don't you erect the tents. Jaune, you can take the pot to find some water and fill it. That should be simple enough, no?"
Simple? Hardly. Still, he could hear rushing water nearby and he desperately wanted to dunk his face into it. He couldn't help but prod, however. "And what will you be doing while Tyrian is making camp and I'm fetching water? Will you be helping us at all today, your highness?"
"I am already helping by offering much-needed direction and leadership, but it is good to see you referring to me by my rightful title for once. Now go. You still need to cook me dinner afterwards."
Stupid, arrogant, demanding, immortal witch-queen. Jaune kept grumbling as he stood and tugged a cast-iron pot off the packs and lugged it off the road in the direction of the water. Gillian skipped along beside him, the small feline preferring him to Tyrian and Salem for some reason. Smart cat, honestly. It sometimes felt like she was the only actual human here aside from him.
In a stroke of luck, a small river ran along not too far from the road. Perhaps the road had been made to follow the river either for water, safety or to run small vessels within it. The water looked clear enough and Jaune dipped the pot into it, collecting some as Gillian sniffed and then lapped at it.
"We need to get you some cat food at some point," he said. The feline stiffened and looked up with what he could have sworn was a horrified expression. "Don't worry, you can have normal human food for now." It relaxed. "But that's probably not good for you in the long run. I'll see if I can't grab you some dry biscuits and wet cat food once we reach Mistral."
"Hsss! Hsssss! Hsssssss!"
"Don't worry, I'll get tuna flavour."
"Hsssss!"
Several fish swam by the pot he was collecting water in. He'd heard in Ansel that rivers outside the populated areas of the world teemed with fish because there was less commercial fishing to cause dwindling numbers. He considered trying to catch some for food before deciding against it. Salem would only complain if he failed and take the credit for herself if he succeeded.
When he arrived back at the road, three tents had already been erected at breakneck speed. Tyrian was stamping one last peg into the ground, beaming like a proud parent taking his daughter our camping. In the centre of the camp, Salem sat upon a fold-out chair and before a small pile of logs.
"I'm back-"
"What is keeping you? Start this fire immediately!"
"Couldn't you have-?"
"Leadership!" she snapped. "I lead, you follow."
Ugh. It wasn't worth the effort of arguing. Setting the pot down, he rummaged in the camping gear and brought out a small pouch of kindling and a metal striker. His dad had taught him and all the girls how to start a fire, both with tools and without. Opening the end of the tubular tool up, he pulled out some dried paper and set it in the middle of the stacked wood, then liberally sprinkled some dust on top.
All dust was combustible, some more so than others, and while it was considered wasteful to use it just to start a fire, it was getting cold and he didn't want to waste time. All he had to do was rub the two sticks of metal together, one covered in tiny bumps, and sparks leapt out. Angling those down, one eventually caught the dust, which flared up, igniting the paper and after a few seconds, the sticks as well. Before long, the logs were burning and Jaune stepped back.
"There. Fire." He glanced at Salem. "Happy?"
"No." she replied. "Hungry. Cook some dinner already. Don't be slow."
Jaune's face twitched once more. Would it kill her to be nice? It was such a shame to have so horrid a personality on so pretty a face. At least someone appreciates my work, he thought as Gillian curled up in front of the fire and gently flicked her tail left and right.
While starting a fire was up his alley, cooking was not. Jaune boiled the water to make it clean and then tossed in the contents of a silver aluminium packet. The dried food and meat-flavoured powder bubbled away, and he added two more for good measure, turning the water into a runny stew with dry-frozen vegetables dancing inside.
It was pretty low fare.
"Incredible!" Salem enthused, eyes watching the bubbles pop. "So, humanity has learned how to create beef stew without the cow? That defies all logic. How? Is this magic…?"
"I'm pretty sure the beef powder is still made from a cow…"
"It's ground-down cow dust?"
"Yes." He wasn't actually sure but had a feeling she'd only have a hundred other questions if he didn't answer. "The food is ground down and packed into a container so you can make it again with just hot water. It's camping food."
"Interesting. In my day you had to hunt your food…"
"You still do here. This is just a workaround."
Spooning the broth around, he ladled some into three wooden bowls and pushed one toward Salem. Her head tilted up, shoulders going stiff. Her sudden refusal couldn't have been more obvious if it was broadcast on a billboard.
Jaune sighed. "What now…?"
"How do I know it isn't poisoned?"
"You just watched me make it!" he snapped.
"I saw mysterious powder entering. It could be anything."
"Why would I kill-?" Actually, there were a lot of reasons. A lot of valid reasons. The question was why shouldn't he – or maybe why hadn't he already? "I-I mean… Fine. I'll eat some first and show you it isn't poison."
"No!" Salem slapped the spoon out his hand. "You fool! Your survival is paramount for my return to power. I can't have you randomly dying like this. It must be someone expendable. Tyrian!"
"Call my name and I shall appear!"
"Sample my dish. Tell me if it is poisoned."
"How will I know?"
Salem's face was flat. "You'll die."
Erk. Jaune's face fell. "Well there's no way he's going to eat it now-"
"Glug. Glug. Glug!" Tyrian tipped his bowl back and downed it in one go. "Ah! Hmmm." He paused, tilted his head and cupped his chin. "I still feel alive, divine one."
"Excellent." Salem dipped her own spoon into the broth and blew softly on it.
"You realise your vaunted goddess just called you expendable and tried to have you drink poison for her, right?" Jaune asked, pointing at Tyrian. "Quite literally, she tried to have you die in her place."
"I know!" A tear ran down the faunus' cheek. "Never has one who walked this planet been as blessed as I am in this moment. Devotees for thousands of years will whisper my name in awe."
He's an idiot. The realisation didn't surprise Jaune anymore, nor was it much of an epiphany. Sighing, he slurped up his own broth and set a small amount in it again for Gillian. The feline dipped her head in and licked it up, tail wagging happily. I'm the only one here who isn't an idiot. I need to ditch these two at the first opportunity.
"We will rest here tonight and leave again come morning," Salem decided. "Tyrian. You shall keep watch."
"Yes, my goddess!"
"Eh?" Jaune sat up. "Didn't he keep vigil over you last night as well. Doesn't he need sleep at some point?"
"The knowledge that my goddess sleeps peacefully is all the nourishment and rest my body requires!" Tyrian proclaimed.
"I'm no dietician but I'm going to call bullshit on that one…"
"Well I would suggest you take a turn on watch as well, but then you might end up getting kidnapped the second we take our eyes off you." Salem remarked. "As such, Tyrian is the only one I can trust."
"One time!" Jaune yelled. "It happened one time!"
/-/
Vernal sat on a rock with twelve other members of the tribe, waiting impatiently for time to pass. The constant chirping of crickets was louder than the muttered chatter of her team. Running her hand over the curve of her weapon, she checked her scroll and the time. It was almost ten.
"You sure they've set up camp?" she asked another woman.
"Watched it happen with my own eyes. Three tents, campfire and everything."
"What are we dealing with?"
"One fighter, a rich woman and some kid. The faunus looks like he can handle himself – I saw two weapons at his waist. Knife-pistols. Guy moves like a predator."
Vernal licked her lips. Interesting. "And the others?"
"The woman is some fancy rich one. Had the fighter carrying her like she was a princess, didn't do any work around camp and doesn't walk anywhere. I bet my arm she's worth a few in ransom." The news brought pleased sounds from the rest. Ransom was always quality over quantity, and the village they'd hit didn't offer much. "Last one is about your age, Vernal. Weak-looking, though. Does whatever the woman says, cooks and carries water. He has a sword, but he doesn't look like he'd know how to use it."
"Don't get caught off-guard." Roland warned.
"Tch. Sure thing, old man. Any other painfully obvious bits of wisdom?"
"How about the fact that not everything may be as it seems?"
"Great." Vernal rolled her eyes. She wasn't a whelp anymore; she'd proven herself on raids and by bleeding for the clan. Raven trusted her. That should be enough for an old fossil like Roland. "I'll keep that in mind when we're dragging these fuckers back to the tribe. Alright." She stood and dusted herself down. "It's been long enough that they should be asleep by now."
"What's the plan?" a man wearing an eye-patch asked.
"We go in hard and fast. Engage and swarm the faunus but focus on grabbing the woman and the kid before they can run. They're the money-makers."
"You're the fastest of us, Vernal. You want to go for them?"
Vernal scowled. "I want to fight the faunus!"
"Leave us something to do. You're already in charge of this and you'll get plenty of glory from that."
Several others agreed and Vernal was forced to let the issue go. Within the Branwen tribe, those who fought were respected. Everyone wanted a crack at the dangerous foes. Vernal was no different, but she knew a losing battle when she saw one.
"Fine. Don't fuck it up, though."
"We've no idea how dangerous he is." Roland said. "A little caution-"
"Can it, old man. We're members of the Branwen tribe. No one is stronger than we are." Vernal raised her fist to quiet cheers and jeers. "Now let's get this show on the road. Raven is expecting results."
The hunting party spread out and parted. Vernal watched the brazen ones preparing themselves to fight with the only one of their prey that could and wished she could be among them. Once she got close enough to see him, she wished it even more. He was tall and wiry with scars on his chest that spoke of constant battle. His tail swished and flicked as he poked at a fire with a stick. Could it be used to deliver venom? Quite possible. Vernal licked her lips, imagining the severed tail as a trophy.
"Hmm. Tempting…"
She was interrupted from such thoughts by the faunus rising and tossing his stick into the fire. He cracked his neck, turned to face her directly – despite her being hidden among the trees – and held a finger to his lips.
"Shhh. My lady sleeps."
Vernal sat there, stunned. He hadn't really seen her, had he? No way. She was a master of moving undetected, an ambush predator like most in the tribe. He had to be talking to the animals, the crickets or just to himself. Vernal sealed her lips shut and ducked low.
"Better. If you have come to supplant yourself before her glory, you should do so come morning." He crossed his arms and kept staring directly at her. "But know that no matter how hard you try, I shall be her favourite."
"Tyrian!" a shrill voice shouted from one of the tents. "Who are you talking to? I'm trying to sleep over here."
"Just some armed strangers surrounding us, holy one. Worry not."
"Armed people?" the boy's voice yelped. "Surrounded!? W-What if they're the bandits who attacked that port?"
Shit. The jig was up. Vernal whistled sharply to signal the attack and leapt from her tree. Her knees hit the ground and she rolled, bringing her weapons up in front of her. Already, the other twelve were covering the distance. Roland was behind, cautious as ever, but her scout reached the faunus first and slashed at him with a wickedly sharp sickle.
Idiot! You're supposed to take him alive-
The faunus bent over backward. He went a full ninety degrees, defying spinal limitations to let the blade sail harmlessly above him. The scout yelped and tripped into him, over him. The impact would have knocked him down as well if he didn't stab his tail down as an anchor. In one motion, Vernal's scout tumbled into the fire, shrieking and kicking burning logs away and rolling on the floor to stamp the flames out.
"Tyrian! You said you were talking!"
"They were rude and didn't respond," the faunus, Tyrian, whined. "They attacked me first. I tried to hold a conversation and everything."
"Well deal with the issue already. They're disturbing my rest."
It was such a snotty and arrogant thing to say, laughable really, but it made the faunus straighten up with wide eyes. They narrowed a moment later, lips peeling back and teeth clenching tight. "Understood," he rasped, and Vernal found herself shivering.
For the rest, it was too late.
Tyrian lunged forward, swayed to dodge a stab and rammed the stinger of his tail through one of the best bandits in Raven's tribe. There was no time to see if he had venom or not because the wound was instantly fatal. What he did have was incredible strength to said tail, which was able to rear up and flick the dying body into Roland and two others to drag them down. It was all so quick that Vernal froze. She was not the only one.
Huntsman. He had to be.
"You have inconvenienced my goddess!" the faunus seethed. "All she asks – all she wishes in her bountiful patience and love – is a few hours of peaceful slumber. Is that too much?" He lunged and gripped a bandit by the throat, shouting into the man's face. "Is it too much!?"
"Ack- I… Fuck-"
"That was a rhetorical question!" Tyrian yelled, throwing the man into a tree so hard his neck broke. "You've interrupted her rest!"
"Shit!" someone swore. "Surround him!" he barked out. "Flank him from both sides-"
"STOP SHOUTING!" Tyrian shouted, lashing out left and right with wild fury. "MY GODDESS IS TRYING TO SLEEP!"
You're the one who's shouting, Vernal wanted to point out, but for an unfamiliar sensation clogging her throat and making it impossible. He was a blender reducing her men to paste. Forget strong, he was a psychopath. Only Raven could beat someone like him. Shit, we might really die here.
No. Not here. There was still a way out. Between the screams of her people and his rage, she picked out the devotion. He sounded like a fanatical nutjob worshipping one of those new-age guru figures. If she could get hold of the woman, she could threaten him to surrender. But which tent was she in? Vernal wracked her brain for where the voice came from.
Another dead bandit went sailing away, striking one of the tents and knocking a post down. A girlish scream from within. That one! Vernal charged in without hesitation, ducking low to avoid the tail that would have opened her throat if she was even a fraction slower. There was no time for finesse. A single sweep of her circular blade opened up the tent fabric and she dove right in, tackling the sleepy figure within and holding the weapon to her throat.
His throat.
It was a boy. But how-?
The boy screamed suddenly, shrieking like a girl.
Fuck my life. Vernal thought. I'm dead.
The killing blow didn't come.
"Goddess…" Tyrian said in a petulant whine, Roland hanging from one fist, a bandit from a second and a third – very much dead – impaled on his tail. He sounded like a boy telling on a classmate to their teacher. "Jaune got kidnapped again..."
The final tent flap wrenched open and a beautiful woman with hair of spun gold stepped out. Her white clothing accentuated her face, red and angry. Stepping over two dead bodies like it was nothing unusual, she stormed out and stared down on Vernal over her captive. The woman planted both hands on her hips.
"Again!?" she snapped. "It's not even been two days since the last time! What is wrong with you?"
"I-I can't help it!" her captive complained. "I was in my tent. She attacked me!"
"I was also in my tent undefended and yet I am not the one being kidnapped," the woman said. "I will not accept this degree of constant failure from my manservant. You shall un-kidnap yourself right this instant or I will be docking your pay."
"You don't even pay me!"
"Enough!" Vernal roared, rolling herself and her prey over. Laying on her back with him over her wasn't exactly the most winning of positions, but it put the prisoner between her and her enemies. "I have your… your manservant hostage. Surrender or I'll slit his throat!"
"Well?" The woman tapped her foot. "I'm waiting, Jaune. Un-kidnap yourself."
The boy in her grasp whimpered. "I can't…"
"You really are a constant disappointment." Turning away, the woman waved a hand, dismissing Vernal as if she were nothing. "Tyrian, organise our surrender, will you? I can't be bothered to deal with this riffraff."
"The fuck you call me!?"
"A Queen does not deal with mere bandits, girl. Remember that."
Vernal clenched her teeth tight, grinding them together. She couldn't wait to see Raven knock this bitch down a peg or three. The only queen their tribe knew was the bandit queen herself. For now though, maybe she'd take the awkward surrender.
Better than being eviscerated by the faunus like half her squad…
/-/
Jaune couldn't help but think none of this was his fault. The looks Salem and Tyrian were giving him said it was but come on, he'd been attacked in his sleep! And wasn't Tyrian meant to keep watch? Technically, that made all this his fault.
The remnants of the bandit group had tied Tyrian's hands before him and to a rope held by the tallest male. His tail was strapped to his back. Also strapped to his back was Salem, who had steadfastly refused to walk despite the numerous threats made to her life.
It was making the short leader of the troupe even angrier, something Jaune was intimately familiar with since she kept her weapon to his back the whole way to their camp, pushing him along while he carried a purring Gillian in his hands.
They came from the trees and into a clearing that had been taken over by the bandits, turned into some terrible parody of an outdoor festival with fires, tents and big, steel cages containing frightened people. Other, less frightened and more frightening, people walked outside, laughing and drinking and rattling the cage bars to make the people inside cry huddle together.
"W-What is this?" Jaune whispered.
"Hah. Welcome to your new home," the girl with short-cropped hair behind him said. "For as long as it takes us to ransom you off, anyway. You're going to be a proud guest of the Branwen tribe."
"Branwen…?" Salem opined.
"Tch." Vernal – the girl having introduced herself in a rant – laughed. "Heard of us, have you? I'm not surprised. Our boss is the fiercest and strongest woman in Mistral."
"Branwen. Branwen. Hm." Salem blatantly ignored Vernal. "The name does sound familiar. I really can't place it, but I feel like I should be able to."
"Bitch." Vernal snapped. To the other bandits she said, "Keep them here. I'll go report to the boss."
One of the others took her place and held a knife to Jaune's neck, essentially keeping him as the hostage to maintain order. Judging from how nervously the others were looking at Tyrian, they knew the ropes binding him down wouldn't amount to much. They were lucky Salem needed him alive at all. Then again, so was he, or he'd have been killed in that tower long ago.
They said a ransom, though. I wonder if that could be a way out for me…
Dad would ransom him. Or rescue him, but that'd be dangerous, so he'd probably try and pay. As long as these bandits were good to their word, he could have his freedom paid for and go back to his family. No one would be buying Salem and Tyrian's freedom, however. They could stay behind. Or break free at the first opportunity, whichever came first.
Stop looking at me like I'm a rodent, Jaune thought as he avoided Salem's gaze. I'm not a trained huntsman, immortal witch or a faunus with a venomous tail. I'm just a normal guy. What am I supposed to do when I'm jumped in my sleep?
Vernal returned with a new figure before he could come up with a better excuse. Black hair, pale skin and red eyes that glared down on them; the red and black clothing combined with it to make for an imposing figure even before he knew she led this group. In contrast, the skirt made him think of a schoolgirl.
Random, but it did.
"So," she said in a calm and commanding voice. "You're the trio who gave my men such a hard time. You killed five before Vernal managed to force your surrender, I'm told." That last was addressed solely to Tyrian. "I am Raven Branwen, leader of the Branwen tribe-"
"Branwen. Branwen." Salem mused out loud again, ignoring the glares of those around her and tilting hr chin down into her hand. "I've heard it before, I'm sure of it. Come on. Branwen…"
Jaune kept looking at Raven, not wanting to upset her.
"As I was saying…" Raven went on. "You have proven your strength." Her attention focused on Tyrian again. "I have need for strong warriors like you. Renounce your loyalty, join us and take your place as a part of the Branwen tribe. In return, I guarantee you riches, glory and-"
"Meh. Not interested."
Everyone gaped. Jaune closed his eyes and wished for a miracle.
"I don't think you understand the severity of the situation," Raven tried again. "You are our prisoners. I hold your lives in my hand. I am giving you a chance to escape the fate of being sold like cattle. All I ask in return is your loyalty-"
"My devotion is to my one and only queen, my goddess, my everything." Tyrian looked adoringly on Salem. "I am but a gnat on this planet in comparison to her majesty. You are but a carrion bird picking at scraps of meat."
Raven threw her hand back, revealing her weapon. "How dare you!"
"Carrion. Branwen. Bird. It really is on the tip of my tongue…"
Stop antagonising them! Jaune thought desperately. He wished his Semblance was something convenient like telepathy because then he could have broadcast that to Salem and Tyrian. She was mortal now! As were they all. This woman could very much kill all of them if they didn't stop pissing her off.
"I'm sorry!" Jaune said. "Please don't listen to-"
The red-eyed woman scowled and backhanded him across the face. It was a light blow, but it surprised him, snapping his head to the side. "The weak do not speak in my presence."
"Harm him and I shall destroy you!" Salem hissed, suddenly back to reality and striding toward Raven. Two bandits got in her way, looking her up and down with ill-meaning leers. "To strike what is mine is to strike at me, and you do not wish me as an enemy, little girl."
"Little girl?" Raven rose up, eyes glinting unnaturally. "I am Raven Branwen, Bandit Queen, Huntress and the most powerful woman-"
"Second most powerful."
Raven's face twitched. "Pardon?"
"Second most powerful." Salem repeated, as though Raven's question was solely because she was hard of hearing. "After all, I'm in Mistral right now. Don't worry, though. We're just passing through on our way to Vale. You can have your little pond back once I'm gone."
"Is that a challenge?"
A red sword hissed free of its scabbard and flicked through the air, whistling as it moved. It came to point at Salem's breast, who didn't once flinch. Jaune wasn't sure if that was supreme confidence or her forgetting she wasn't immortal again.
"We have a tradition here in the Branwen tribe," Raven hissed. "Those who believe in their strength may challenge the leader of the tribe for their position in one-on-one combat. It is always to the death." The woman's eyes narrowed cruelly. "Is that what you want? I will cut you down where you stand unless you apologise. I'll feed your body to the crows-"
"Crow! That's it!" Salem, still ignoring the threat, slammed her fist into her palm. "Qrow and Raven Branwen. You're some of Ozma's current minions!"
Ozma? The name meant nothing to Jaune and couldn't have meant much to the bandits either because they all shrugged, confused. To Raven, however, it meant something. The woman stepped back with wide eyes.
"H-How?" she stammered. "How do you know that name?"
"Hm? Well, isn't it obvious?" Salem offered a cocky smile. "I'd take efforts to learn the names of my nemesis' underlings. How else can I be expected to hunt them down and eradicate them?"
"Nemesis…? Impossible." Raven whispered. "That name shouldn't be known-" Suddenly stopping, she firmed her footing and glared at Salem. "Who are you? Identify yourself!"
Don't antagonise her. Don't antagonise her. Don't antagonise her.
"Me?" Salem asked, laughing sharply. "Why, little girl, you ought to know me. Or is it this new face I wear?" Casting her arms wide, she proclaimed. "I am Salem, Queen of the Grimm. Cower before me, puny mortal!"
Silence.
Dead silence.
Then, laughter.
The bandits snickered and Vernal scoffed, while others within hearing passed the news on and the laughter spread through the camp like wildfire. Tyrian looked displeased and Salem had a twitching eyebrow, both having expected a little more terror, awe and devotion.
Funnily enough, only Raven herself wasn't laughing. The woman was staring at Salem with wide eyes, open mouth and shaking sword. "S-Salem?" she whispered. "No. Impossible. How? W-Why!?"
"Why? I've already told you why – I'm on my way to Vale to take care of some… business. The details need not bother you. What should bother you is that you have interrupted my travel and detained me. I am quite peeved."
"Peeved?" Vernal mocked. "You're a prisoner! You can be peeved all you like-"
"Vernal!" Raven snapped. "Silence. You do not know what you say!"
"Psht? What? Boss, come on, she's just some weak woman. I could open her up like a can of sardines."
"You could not." Raven said in a haunted whisper. "No one can. Not even he can end her…" The words were whispered so quietly Jaune wasn't sure anyone but he heard them.
"This challenge…" Salem mused. "If I kill Raven Branwen, I become Bandit Queen?"
"No!" Raven gasped.
"Yes!" every bandit answered. "Not that you could," Vernal added scornfully. "Raven is the strongest woman in Mistral, possibly even the world. Your bodyguard might be hot shit, but even he couldn't stand up to her power!"
"Vernal…" Raven croaked. "Stop…"
"But sure, if you think you have what it takes, challenge her. Challenge her and I'll watch you beg for mercy. And if you somehow manage to win, I'll get down on my knees and call you my queen. No, I'll call you my Goddess like the nutcase here does." Her hand jerked toward Tyrian.
"Is that so?" Salem chuckled darkly. "Well, that certainly does sound interesting. My current minions are somewhat inaccessible to me and I could use a few replacements. It's also been a while since I've been acknowledged as queen by so many. Very well. I accept this challeng-"
A red portal blurred open and Raven Branwen dove into it like a swimmer diving into a pool. It snapped shut behind her, leaving her sword on the floor where she had dropped it.
Vernal and the tribespeople stared at the weapon in shock.
Salem simply hummed. "I win…?"
/-/
Taiyang Xiao-Long was a man who slept alone in a double bed. It hadn't always been that way, but ever since Summer's passing, he'd sworn his heart couldn't handle a third loss. He was also getting on in years, which meant he enjoyed the space and going to bed early, even if the house was a little lonely now that Ruby and Yang had gone off to Beacon.
Gone were the years of adventure and action. It was their turn now, and Taiyang sighed into the warm night air, listening to Zwei gently snore from the foot of the bed.
It was peaceful.
At least it was until a big red portal opened and a face he hadn't seen in nigh on eighteen years – and never thought he'd see again – came crashing through and into him. Raven Branwen, his first love and first wife, hit him like a surface to air missile. Her body followed after, slamming down atop his as she swan-dived through a portal that snapped shut behind her.
"W-What? Raven-? What are – whoah! What!?"
For a very real moment, Taiyang thought she'd come to kill him. That was before her arms wrapped around his neck and her face smashed into his chest. Raven's legs kicked at the blankets like she was trying to crawl into his skin.
"Help me! Hide me! Save me!"
Zwei cracked open one eye and peered at his master struggling under an excited female, wrestling with and trying to calm her down as she screamed in fear. The corgi sighed, pushed itself up from its position and rolled over onto its side, tucking its nose and ears under its dog bed before going back to sleep.
Well, you know, Raven lasted even less time than Jax did technically. Then again, Raven is wise enough to know to get the hell out the way when an immortal monster comes knocking for her.
Or what she assumes is still an immortal monster.
Next Chapter: 22nd February
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
