"Now, I'm sure you have more than a few questions, so let's get those out of the way before we wrap up for the night," Marigold said, amusement twinkling in her golden orbs. "As entertaining as today was, I prefer an audience who isn't struggling with sleep deprivation."
Braun squirmed lightly in his seat at the reminder. That had not been his finest hour, and he was very grateful that his host didn't hold his actions against him. Recomposing himself, he looked back down at his notes, wanting to ensure he didn't ask anything that had already been answered.
After a minute of browsing, he had his questions.
"You mentioned that there were other cases of youkai and gods elsewhere, that those stories didn't all originate from a common source. Why was it so important that the story you told was the first?"
The corner of the storyteller's mouth quirked upwards. "Why, Braun, I thought you were a historian. Surely you know the power of age?" She gestured at the archaeologist's gear. "Ideas have a certain weight to them that comes with age. Your weapon, your clothing, most things can be traced back to an original form that was simply built upon or over. Merely variations on a theme, surrounding a core nature.
Marigold leaned forward. "You ask why it was so important that the village I spoke of was the first? Because the archetypes established during that incident set precedents, defined roles that would continue to this day."
"Even now, households make offerings to appease the spirits, swaths of land are left undeveloped out of respect for what they offer, and countless souls seek to better themselves through faith."
She stared Braun dead in the eyes. "Even if the details change or the origin is lost to time, the truly old stories will never die as long as people exist. They might take different forms and different names, but at their core, they remain the same. Concepts embedded into the very souls of Humans and Faunus alike."
The historian was frozen in place, those golden eyes burning into her brain. "That is why the first stories are important," Marigold continued. "They establish not only the template that future ones will follow but also the oldest and most powerful of legends. The ones that endure and spread while others are left behind."
Breaking off the stare, Marigold relaxed back into her seat. With that, the tension brought on by the last minute began to fade back into amiable companionship. "Now," she asked brightly. "Is there anything else you wish to ask about before we adjourn for the night?"
Blinking a few times to reorient himself, Braun shook his head slightly. "Right, I'm sorry. That was… intense." He said, still sounding a touch off-balance. "I also wanted to ask about your emphasis on belief and how it was responsible for creating the youkai and other beings. You really hammered in that aspect of the narrative."
"Hmmmmm" Marigold hummed to herself. "There is a reason for that, but ultimately it depends on what you think about the idea." She raised her right index finger. "If you feel that the youkai and god were just stand-ins for people or natural events, you could say that all the belief in them made people react in such ways that they may as well have been real."
She raised her right middle finger. "Or, if you subscribe to the interpretation that these events happened as depicted, it means more or less what it says. That if something is well and truly believed in, why should it not be real?"
"We live in a world where individuals can harness the power of their souls to protect them from danger, enhance their abilities, and alter reality itself in various ways. Is it truly so impossible to believe that such things might have effects beyond the obvious?" She asked, raising an eyebrow at Braun.
"I suppose…" he muttered absentmindedly. His thoughts going back to the contents of the pouch dangling from his neck. "I agree that the stories are more real than most would think," he admitted, choosing his words carefully.
"As you said, the soul is a powerful thing. But there isn't really enough evidence to prove or disprove the idea that those stories aren't propaganda or otherwise embellished. It could be one, the other, or both. As much as I personally feel that Youkai and gods exist and that your explanation explains a lot, I owe it to those who read my work to have more than my own opinions behind it."
Marigold let out a hum at his answer, her tone conveying neither approval nor disapproval, before taking a sip of her tea. "A better answer than some I've heard," she acquiesced, setting her cup back on the tray. "In any case, I think it would be best if you returned to your room for the night should you wish to have time for both work and sleep."
Braun looked out the window, noticing that the sun had begun to dip over the horizon. "I think you're right." He lifted himself out of his seat, grabbing his notebook and pen off of the table and storing them within his bag.
He turned back to Marigold, who had opted to remain seated, and, after coughing into his hand, gave a slight bow. "Once again, I would just like to thank you for all of this. If it wasn't for your help, I wouldn't be able to put together nearly as clear a picture as I have."
His host smiled wryly at that. "It's been a pleasure to help you with your research. Far too many people seem to be more interested in feuding over bits and pieces of the world than uncovering more about it."
Braun sighed. "Believe me, I understand. We barely know anything about the time before the kingdoms, let alone the history of Remnant or so many things we take for granted." He began counting off examples on his fingers.
"Where did Dust come from? What advancements did previous civilizations develop? Are humans and Faunus truly the only sapient species in history? There are so many questions that could make a real difference if we answer them." He shook his head. "There has to be more to the world than our bubble."
He let his arm go slack, falling back by his side. "That's why I chose to become a historian," he said. "I want to find some of those answers, to help us better understand the world and what we can learn from it."
Marigold gave him an unreadable look for a moment, before taking another sip of tea. "Well, you certainly have the right mindset for the task," she said. "I'm sure if you don't give up, you will find what you're looking for one day."
Braun smiled softly at the statement. "Thank you, that means a lot." As he began making his way to the door, he stopped and turned back to face the storyteller. "By the way, if you don't mind, can I ask what will we be talking about tomorrow?"
Looking back at him, she gave her response. "I've told you the beginnings of the stories and the book I gave you tells you the middle." She said, standing up and glancing back at him as she turned to leave. Now is the time to speak of endings and, perhaps, new beginnings." With that, she opened the door and left the cottage.
Braun stared at the space previously occupied by Marigold and shook his head. "Well, that was dramatic," he said with a chuckle. That said, he went to go finish up his transcriptions for the day. If he hurried back, he might even finish transcribing today's story and the rest of Margold's guide quickly enough to get more than six hours of sleep.
Despite his plans to get to work immediately upon returning to his lodging, the historian was sidetracked shortly after walking through the door by the chime of a new message on his scroll.
Taking a moment to set his pack down by the desk, Braun reached into his pockets and pulled out the device. One look at the screen, and the notice displayed upon it, answered any questions of what had happened.
There, in large bold font, was the headline: Red Fang Assaults Schnee Dust Company Vacouan Headquarters. Hundreds Dead.
The Red Fang…
It wasn't like Braun could say he understood all of their reasons for what they did, but his work had given him enough insight into a major cause to understand just enough of why they were the way they were.
So many tales about Youkai had been adapted into, or just outright stated to be, records of past encounters between humans and Faunus. Countless children growing up with the 'knowledge' that Faunus are monsters, no matter how well they hide it at times.
The White Fang, despite their best efforts, hadn't been able to make much in the way of progress towards changing things. Faunus were still discriminated against, still viewed as outright enemies of humanity by many, and the world continued to turn a blind eye to their misery.
Was it any wonder that the movement had fractured only a few years after its birth? That many of its members had come to the conclusion that, if they were going to be treated as monsters, they may as well become them?
A point they swiftly made apparent with the total destruction of a frontier town with a reputation for its long record of dubious Faunus convictions and/or executions. In a matter of hours, the entire population was butchered and every standing structure put to the torch.
Judging from the corpses and what records could be recovered, a Faunus who had been incarcerated at the time had attempted to intervene and stop the slaughter. He had received no more mercy than the townspeople, cut down and left to rot next to the body of a child.
Just another fatality among over two hundred others.
The Red Fang had released a statement claiming responsibility for the act, going so far as to send video of Faunus slaughtering the populace, their faces adorned with monstrous masks depicting various Youkai. Their name a symbol of their resolve and essence in one: beasts who have embraced their nature, who hunt anyone and anything not stained with their colors.
The White Fang had put out an announcement utterly condemning their counterparts' actions immediately after the news broke, but it did little to stem the tide of outrage from the atrocities.
Braun was pretty focused on his work back then, fresh out of combat school and eager to really get out there and start learning more, but he remembered the sense of paranoia that had descended on Vale. How the news kept reporting ever-higher amounts of anti-Faunus hate crimes and outbreaks of violence throughout the kingdoms.
The chaos had calmed down after a few weeks, but not before a great deal of damage had been done, not only to the city but the lives of its inhabitants. Broken windows and empty buildings became a far more common sight during those days...
The Red Fang hadn't slowed down since, striking target after target with remorseless efficiency and unprecedented savagery. Braun had even had a run-in with one of their agents a few years back.
They'd tried to poison his food and drink while he was visiting the outskirts of Vale about a local legend. From what he could gather, they had been angry enough about him 'profiting off of their people's suffering,' to go out on a personal mission to kill him. Very painfully if the police analysis of that toxin was anything to go by.
Luckily, it turned out the hotel chef was a combat school graduate with a paranoid streak. The would-be assassin had been overconfident and was forced to retreat in order to avoid being dogpiled by security.
Unfortunately, the Red Fang's definition of retreat was 'fall back and try another angle.' And so, they ambushed him on his way to his interview, as he was walking through the semi-crowded streets. A rain of explosives coming down on him, the realization of what was happening, and his desperate attempts to react to the oncoming blast.
For all the honestly saint-like patience the White Fang had shown in recent years, their estranged siblings never failed to torpedo their efforts through indiscriminate violence. Why just kill your target when you can take out more of those who aren't us?
From what he'd been told, those who would become the White Fang had chosen to don their signature Grimm masks as a symbol of defiance. That, no matter how many stories depicted them as inhuman creatures or people disdain their existence, they were not monsters. To show that, despite appearances, they were merely people underneath. They had also quickly realized the idea was a tad counterproductive after the first few incidents and dropped it beyond the occasional ceremony.
The Red Fang had taken it in the polar opposite direction. They were the masks, the bodies beneath nothing more than vessels of hate. Monsters worse than almost Youkai he could name because even those were still a part of the world.
The extremist group was not part of the world, of anything. They were living beings only in the biological sense, so utterly consumed by their hatred at the world which had so cruelly alienated them that they were defined by their opposition to it.
In the name of vengeance, they would burn the world to ash. Anointing their new kingdom with the blood of all that was different before turning on one another to satisfy their unending hate.
A plague worse than the Grimm, for even they would leave something behind. A world devoid of sapient life, one ruled over by the beings of Destruction, but still more than what the Red Fang would bring about.
He'd managed to survive the blast, to pull himself out of the ruins of the storefront he had been through and look up to see his assailant staring down at him, the crimson visage of an Oni adorning his face and scales.
The only reason he hadn't died then and there was that the man in front of him felt that it would be better to vent his frustration at the poison plan not working. By which he meant kicking Braun around and cursing him out until he felt like finishing him off.
The historian tried to fight back, but steel-tipped boots smashing into one's head have a way of disrupting concentration. Fortunately, one of the surviving townspeople had intervened, hurling a piece of debris right into the masked man's head. Causing him to whip his head towards the offender, a positively malevolent hiss emitting from his gritted teeth.
The blow failed to damage them through their aura, but it gave Braun time to whip out his weapon, transform it into crossbow form, and fire an earth dust-tipped round into the other man's chest. The force of the blow knocking him off his feet and into the damaged counter of a store.
While they tried to get their bearings, he had loaded a shock round and took aim at the downed assassin. Once that hit, he loaded new ones and fired again and again, until his attacker was no longer moving.
The Red Fang member had been taken away by the police afterward, some huntsmen showing up to drag them off to a prison reserved for aura users. Still, the experience had impressed upon Braun the need to keep an eye on the organization's movements.
He let out a weary sigh. Though in most cases, the knowledge just depressed him. And this time didn't seem to be any different.
The damage done would seriously impact Vacuo's Dust supply, leaving those with less-than-legal stockpiles in a position to take advantage and further their influence over the kingdom. Meanwhile, the blatant ineffectiveness of Jaques Schnee's supposedly elite forces would encourage the outer settlements to continue banding together to protect themselves. Which would in turn worsen the paranoid fear that they were planning to secede...
Shaking his head to clear his thoughts, Braun turned his focus away from the ever-worsening powder keg of Kingdom politics and towards his work for the night.
The collection and his copy lay side-by-side on the desk, ready for him to continue last night's work.
Still, before he began the transcription process again, he wanted to write out the forward. A bit unconventional, given so much of the book remains unread, but he wanted to give voice to his feelings on the trip and what he'd learned.
And, worst comes to worst, he could always just use his Semblance to rewrite it.
Decision made, he sat down in the chair, flipped open his copy to its first page, and began to write.
I want to begin this foreword with a lesson I've learned over the course of my life and has since been reinforced by my time in Deiri: That there is always more to the world than you know.
This is not meant to be demeaning, rather, consider it encouragement. Whatever your interest lies in, be it combat, cooking, or something else entirely, there is always further growth to pursue.
In my case, my interest is the unknown. The countless unanswered questions about our world and society, the idea that existence as we define it is not the be-all-end-all.
If you're reading this then I hope the contents of this book can help you on whichever path you've chosen. That even one more person might abandon their preconceived notions and seek out the truth of the situation themselves.
Of course, this is a book about Youkai, so from here on out, I'm going to be focusing on that topic...
Braun awoke not on the somewhat comfortable bed which he had been provided, but face-down on a hard wooden surface. After a moment's confusion, prior experience led him to conclude that he had fallen asleep at his desk. Again.
The question of where settled, he pushed himself to his feet and looked down at the desk in the hopes of answering why. Seeing a trio of open books, two on their final page and the third halfway through, Braun realized that he must have gotten too into transcribing Marigold's book and crashed hard when it was finally done.
Mystery solved, he stood up from his chair, muscles groaning in protest of the sudden movement. After taking a moment to curse past him for this, Braun went to check the time on his scroll.
Confirming that he had almost overslept, he grabbed some of the coffee he had brought for the trip and went to make himself a quick breakfast. It wouldn't taste very good but it would get him moving right quick.
After forcing down the 'food' with an ease born of far too much practice, Braun went into the washroom and cleaned himself up. It would be rude to repay Marigold's kindness by showing up with poor hygiene after all.
Once that task was complete, Braun double-checked the time, noting that he still had twenty minutes before he would need to leave and meet up with Marigold. Seeing as he had some time, he decided to take a look at the work he'd spent a good chunk of the last night on.
He walked back over to the table where he had left the books, closing the story collection and flipping back to where he remembered the guides being when he came back last night. Leaning down to get a better view, Braun began to read through the pages of both guides, making sure to closely compare the original with his copy.
Page after page was reviewed, but no discrepancies were found. The contents of the books were exactly the same, barring the foreword he had written.
It seems like his semblance came through yet again, even while not quite in his right mind. Given it was taking three minutes of constant focus to transcribe a single entry, he isn't sure how managed to pull that off.
Still, there was no point complaining about things working out in his favor. Checking his scroll again, Braun noticed that it was about time for him to leave if he wanted to reach Marigold in time.
He grabbed both books, placing each in his pack, and headed out the door. Eager, yet slightly apprehensive, to learn about the 'ending' the storyteller had promised to explain to him.
Walking through the village, Braun took in his surroundings once more. The. admittedly rustic, surroundings never failed to fill him with a sense of wonder. While the various kingdoms each had their appealing traits, they tended to focus more on their progress than their history.
Mistral was generally the best about that sort of thing, even if the reasons might be more self-serving than he liked, so it made some sense that Deiri would have a firmer grasp on their history, but it was still impressive.
Marigold had explained some of the village's history during their free time, from the usage of fire and ice dust to create a much-needed water reserve to anecdotes about how the semblance of the village founder had allowed them to cloak the settlement from the Grimm until defenses were ready.
For someone who had devoted their life to learning how people once lived, it was a treasure trove of new discoveries and perspectives. Even discounting Marigold's stories, there were enough findings here to make up a multi-hour documentary.
As he approached the storyteller's home, Braun felt glad that he had chosen to take the, admittedly shady, tip about this place. Even if today's story might be the last one, he wouldn't mind returning here sometime.
Arriving at the door, he knocked three times before stepping back and awaiting a response.
Shortly afterward, the door opened, revealing Marigold wearing a white-collared purple dress and a white mob hat.
"Welcome back Braun," she said, smiling mischievously. "I do hope you slept well last night, today's story is going to be a lengthy and intricate one. I would hate for it to go to waste"
Braun rubbed the back of his head, trying and failing to ignore the heat rising to his cheeks. "No, I got enough sleep. Just not in a bed." He said, muttering the last half under his breath.
The storyteller let out a small laugh at the statement. "Well, I suppose that's the best I could hope for." She said, now smiling softly. "Asking a dedicated academic to hold back when their interest is piqued is a fool's errand, is it not?"
"Pretty much," he said, a smile of his own on his face. "That friend of yours?" He asked.
Moments after saying it, he realized that had been the wrong call. Marigold's face immediately went slack, her eyes growing dull as she stared out at an unseen past. Moments later, she snapped out of her reminiscence, but her sunny demeanor had given way to an air of melancholy.
"Yes, you could say that," she said, smiling fondly. "She always made sure to have a handle on her priorities, to never let her desire to learn supersede her morals, but she did have to be reminded of how far she could push herself now and again. Lest we end up running for our lives because we were too tired to realize there was more to what we were investigating than we initially thought."
The corners of her mouth turned downward. "But those days have passed us all by. Now, there are responsibilities that must be tended to before all else…"
At that moment, Marigold seemed far older than she had any right to be, A weight born of experience pressing down on her. Then, the moment passed and she was once again the eccentric young woman who teased him about overworking himself and had taught him so much in such as short time.
"Enough about my mysterious past, I believe you're here for the final story?" She asked, waving her hand as if dismissing the past minute from existence.
Braun, feeling distinctly off-balance, grappled for a response. On one hand, that reaction was concerning on multiple levels. On the other, it didn't seem like she wanted to elaborate and it would be very rude to push the topic after how helpful Marigold's been.
Finally, after several moments of panicked deliberations, he spoke up. "If you're sure," he said haltingly. Offering the chance for her to speak up.
"Very much so." Only for it to be shot down without mercy or hesitation. "Now," she said, "let us get to the point of this meeting." And with that, she turned around and walked further inside, leaving the door to begin swinging shut.
Braun reached out, intercepting the door with his palm, and walked inside as well.
Marigold was already seated by the time he entered the living room, her storybook open to a spot roughly three-fourths of the way through, and a look of boredom on her face. As if asking him what took so long. There was even a steaming cup of tea on the table next to her.
Braun slips into the chair he's occupied for the last few days, pulling out his familiar notebook and pen, and opening it to a blank page. "Alright," he said. "You mentioned this was the ending? Does that mean the end of this story or is this the last one you're telling me?"
"The last story I have to tell you," she replied. "I've explained how youkai, gods, and spirits came into being and the book I gave you contained information on what they were. Now, it is time to address what happened to them."
"You mean why they aren't common knowledge like they were in the tales?" He asked, leaning forward. "Why the only traces of them are legends, a handful of unclear incidents, and leftover items from past civilizations?"
"Precisely," she said, taking a sip from her cup. "The story of how those beings were forced to flee into obscurity, of the Brother's judgment upon the world, and the struggle to carve out a future in the face of oblivion."
Braun leaned backward slightly. As if trying to escape the weighty presence that Marigold's statement had carried. Even if the words themselves were something out of a generic fantasy novel, the utter seriousness with which she had pronounced them sent shivers down his spine.
With that ominous line, Marigold grabbed the storybook from the table beside her, flipping it open to a new page. For an instant, Braun caught a glimpse at part of the book's contents: an image of all manner of Youkai staring at a purplish-black horizon.
As promised, here's the last entry in the Fantastical Retrospective arc. It's something of an in-between piece, but it gives us some more character development and context for Remnant's current state.
Speaking of which, the Red Fang. I'm aware it sounds like something out of an overly edgy dark fic, but hear me out. The White Fang of canon started as a non-violent resistance and eventually transitioned into the terrorist organization they were in Vol 1 onward in response to their peaceful efforts not bearing fruit.
In this world, where the Faunus were even more strongly discriminated against? The early efforts backfired and hard. In the wake of this tragedy, several members came to similar conclusions as Canon!Adam: that they would never be accepted, that they weren't people. And so, utterly convinced that there could never be any hope of reform or positive change, they gathered all those who would listen and set out with a new purpose. For if they couldn't save the Faunus, they would avenge their suffering. And the rest is history.
For Want of A Nail is a Wonderful idea, isn't it? Change one thing, and suddenly there are a dozen new factors making their own alterations.
Next up, we witness the first steps toward the Birth of A Wonderland.