Can I just say…. Arcane.

Wow. What a damn show. If you haven't watched it then I cannot recommend it enough. You do not need to have ever played League of Legends to do so. It's awesome. Just pure awesome. No spoilers to be had here other than that it's only nine episodes and some of those characters are god-damned amazing. I cannot recommend it enough.

Cover Art: Mystery White Flame

Chapter 44

"Did you fetch this so-called `gamer fuel` I demanded?"

Roman Torchwick tossed the can of soda down onto the table in front of Salem, swept his white coattails back and threw himself onto his sofa. Salem took the can and handed it to Jaune, who rolled his eyes, cracked it open and handed it back. Apparently, the fingernails of a queen were not to be risked on such fanciful technology.

"Excellent. With this, I shall be unstoppable."

"And broke." Roman said. "My bank account is now officially empty."

Jaune couldn't believe his ears. "You spent the last of our money on gamer fuel!?"

"The last of my money." Roman stressed. "Which, by the way, numbered over several hundred thousand lien at the start of this week. Let's go over where that all went, shall we?" He brought out his scroll and flicked down an online report of his balance. "A couple of thousand on ice-cream, several more thousand on high-tech surveillance equipment, twenty-five thousand on a gold wedding band, enough chocolate to kill a school and enough flowers to provide for their funerals, a literal crate of rare and expensive whiskey-"

Vernal belched from her spot on the sofa. "That shit was overpriced."

"You don't say!?" Roman snarled. "And what's this? Thousands on video games, enough porn games to put me on a watchlist, a lifetime subscription to an MMO you have exactly one hour of playtime on, and one hundred and ten thousand lost in a scam!?" Roman's head shot up. "The fuck Salem!?"

"There was no scam," she replied. "I was contacted by a Vacuan General. He was going to give us several million if we helped fund his escape from the country."

"THAT IS THE SCAM!"

"Nonsense. He must have been caught attempting to flee. Alas, the investment I made on your behalf did not pay off, but it because of his own ineptitude. Not mine. Really, you should thank me for trying to earn you a share of forty-two million lien."

Roman expressed his gratitude by sobbing fitfully into the armrest of his sofa while Neo rubbed his back. Jaune wasn't sure if it was the lack of cash that broke him or the fact they all knew he wouldn't be able to convince Salem the mistake was hers. "Broke!" he cried. "We're broke! All my riches, all my hard work-"

"You're a thief," Jaune pointed out.

"That still means I had to work to steal it! People don't hang their money out on a clothesline!"

"Touché…"

"Does this mean we need more?" Hazel asked.

"If we're to keep up with her majesty's online gaming addiction, yes," Mercury said, conveniently failing to mention how he'd accrued almost as much in costs as she for his prospective girlfriend. "But hey, we've a master thief right here. Can't you just steal us some more cash?"

"Oh sure. Easy. It's not like the entire Atlas military is here looking for you assholes or anything. It's not like we're now linked to the White Fang, and thus the number one priority for every kingdom to apprehend."

"Perfect then." Salem said. "Hop to it."

Roman stared at her.

"Ahem." Hazel coughed and leaned down to whisper, "I believe he was being sarcastic, your majesty."

Salem frowned. "What? Didn't I outlaw sarcasm?"

"Not to the best of my knowledge…"

"Then it's outlawed from now on," she decreed. "Jaune, write that down!"

"Write it where…?"

"In the Code of Laws!"

Jaune looked to Hazel for advice and received a shrug. Tyrian waved his hand as if it were his turn, but Jaune ignored him, grabbed a napkin off the side and a pen, then scribbled `law` on it. "Good enough…?"

"It will do," Salem sighed dramatically. "Ahem. I, Queen Salem the first, Glorious and Everlasting ruler of all free people of Remnant, High Queen under the sun, Saviour of the people, the Lightbringer, She who must not be defamed, the Darkbringer-"

"Both?" Jaune felt the morbid need to ask.

"Depends on the time of the month. Normally light, but when it's that time my mercy tends to wane. A lot. Ahem. Goddess of all that is good, Merciful Queen, Tyrant of the Wastes, Scourge of the Seas, Bountiful Patron of the Harvest, The One, The Two, The Trinity and Bringer of the End Times."

Jaune scribbled a great big "ETC…" on his napkin and looked up. "Is that all?" he asked, his own voice thick with soon-to-be-illegal sarcasm. "Anything else?"

"Of course there are more, Jaune. I'm summarising them for your benefit. Those ones will do. I hereby decree that from this date on, all sarcasm toward thy Queen shall be punishable by eternal damnation. Are all in agreement?"

"Oh yeah."

"Absolutely."

"Without a doubt."

"Hmhmm. Totally in agreement."

Salem predictably missed the vast amount of sarcasm headed her way. "Excellent. And well done, Jaune. Your first responsibility in coding down the law. I will make a marvellous Steward out of you sooner or later."

"Steward? I thought I was your Seneschal…"

"You've been promoted. Do not disappoint me."

"This is great and all," Roman said. Again, sarcastic. "But it doesn't solve the problem of how we're going to run out of food, drink and internet within a couple of days. Less if lover boy over there starts trading it off for flowers and chocolate. We need money. We need a way of making money." He tapped the table with his finger. "Ideas?"

"Tax the peasants!"

Jaune sighed. "Salem, we don't have peasants…"

"We have Jaunesville."

Okay, they did and he'd forgotten, but those people were poor enough already and a long way away to boot. He said that and added "And you can't tax us because we're the ones without any money."

"Can we take a loan out?" Emerald asked.

"Oh sure. Roman Torchwick, Salem Queen of All Evil and Jaune Arc show up to ask to speak to a manager about a loan. That'd go down well, wouldn't it?"

Emerald blushed and snarled, "Well you have a bank account. That has to mean you have an in."

"Correction. Rowan Candlestick has a bank account, and that's because he is a law-abiding member of society. At least he was before he spent his entire fortune on trash 8-bit porn games for some reason!" He glared at Salem. "Now he's probably on a list. Roman Torchwick does not share his reputation – good or bad, thankfully. And before you say it, no, we cannot `get a job` or `open a business` to cover the losses. What are we going to offer? A kissing booth?"

Tyrian held up his hand. "I could make a killing booth. That's close."

"So." Roman ignored him. They all did. "Ideas?"

Vernal sighed. "Can't we just rob a bank or something?"

Jaune's heart leapt into his throat. Luckily, Roman beat him to it.

"With Atlas around and Beacon on high alert? That's the stupidest idea I've ever heard."

Phew. Jaune sank back into his seat.

"So stupid it might just work…"

/-/

As it turned out, Roman wasn't that stupid. "No one robs banks," he explained later. "They're a pain in the ass, guarded, full of people who become hostages and the money is sealed in a vault. You'd be hard pressed to find a quicker way to have every huntsman in Vale on your ass. What you go for is the armoured vehicles coming to and from the banks."

"Aren't they miniature vaults themselves?" Mercury asked.

"Yes, but they're mobile so you can drive them away from the action and deal with it later. That means you can take your time with it without having to worry the huntsmen will come down on your heads."

Jaune still had one big complaint. "Atlas and Beacon are going to be gunning to kill if we're caught doing this…"

Roman looked at him like he was insane. "You really think I'm the kind of guy to paint a target on my back like that? Come on. Do I look like an idiot?"

No.

That was where the White Fang came in.

There had to be some terrible commentary under the fact they were tricking the White Fang into committing crimes for them. It was practically exploitation; they were using the faunus as expendable troops. And yet those same faunus were eager, even keen, to do it. As one of them said, they'd be dead without Jaune and Salem saving them. This was their chance to pay the two of them back.

Given that the Grimm had torn Banesaw asunder and had been close to doing the same to them, he couldn't really argue with the idea. Plus, they'd saved the White Fang from that team from Beacon when they crashed their ship into the docks. No matter which way you looked at it, the White Fang owed them big.

"This is our kind of thing," a bespectacled faunus said. "We'll drive this thing off the road, then have our heavy hitter rip the door off."

Said `heavy hitter` was a giant of a faunus sat in the back of a hollowed-out ice-cream van. He was eight feet if anything, built of solid muscle and, of all things, reading a book of poetry open on his lap. "I-Is that Banesaw?" Jaune whispered.

"What? Nah. That's Bane. Banesaw was… like, a massive douche. Bane is awesome. Wouldn't hurt a fly. Unless that fly was a Schnee, in which case he might annihilate the fly, but otherwise he's a sweetie."

"Was he related to Banesaw?"

"Nope."

Jaune opened his mouth and then closed his mouth. Maybe ignorance was bliss here. I still can't believe we're doing this. Sure, we're not robbing the bank ourselves but everyone in charge is going to know we did this. Ugh. Dad is going to freak.

"Okay, so you know the drill." Roman said. "I've gotten you a tracker on that van. Your job is to drive it off the road, get the driver out – preferably without roughing him up too bad – then drive the car to this warehouse and run. My associate here." He tapped Neo's shoulder. "Will then use her Semblance to conceal the real van while the police come and pick up the decoy we've made. Emerald will be using her Semblance to make it so that anyone who looks inside will see it full of cash, assume you guys bailed and leave with it. Any questions?"

Tyrian raised his hand.

"No?"

Tyrian waved his hand. A member of the White Fang pointed. Jaune placed his hand on the faunus' arm and pushed it back down with a stern shake of his head. Roman, meanwhile, acted as though he'd not noticed at all.

"No? Good. We're putting a lot of faith in you lot – which I realise is out of character for me – but then being piss poor is also about as far from where I thought I'd be today as anything, so go out there and make me proud. And rich. Mostly, make me rich. That's the goal here."

"And that'll help with faunus equality, right?" a faunus woman asked.

"Yeah. Sure. Let's go with that."

The White Fang cheered and scurried into their stolen ice-cream truck, turned on the merry and jingly sirens above it and trundled off to a musical tune. They all watched them go with morbid curiosity, all except for Neo who wiped an imaginary tear from her eye.

"So," Mercury said. "What are we going to be doing while this is happening?"

"I'm glad you asked. We are going to be establishing ourselves a very firm alibi for why we simple could not have been involved in this theft. Jaune, you're about to be seen in public on the other side of the city."

Jaune blinked. "I am? Uh. And what am I going to be doing?"

"Nothing horrible or illegal. That'd defeat the purpose. You're just going to be seen and noticed so that no one can blame you or Salem. It's quite simple. The two of you are going to be having a nice, chill meal at a little place run by a friend of mine."

That sounded too easy. Jaune's eyes narrowed. "That's it…?"

"That's it. People are going to notice two allegedly dangerous criminals out and take pictures, and if they don't then I've asked the guy who runs the place to do it for us. Those will get posted online later and everyone will know you two can't be behind the attack on the bank. Meanwhile, I'm going to be seen robbing a corner shop for ice-cream and waffles."

"And that won't look suspicious?" Emerald asked.

"Trust me. That's going to appear very in-character for me. Shops around here know to get out the frozen goods when I show up looking miserable. At least I pay for cigars – I'm a thief, not a monster."

"Some would say they're not too far removed. You're still hurting people."

"Sure thing, Mr Works-for-the-Queen-of-all-Evil."

Jaune squawked indignantly.

/-/

So, while the White Fang were off causing chaos and Roman was off stealing ice-cream, Jaune found himself wondering how fate, life and everything in between had led to him arriving with Salem, his enslaver, boss, demanding companion and something akin to a friend, at a small and isolated little diner on one of the less populated areas of Vale. The people inside, tough, broad, and heavily tattooed. Jaune's first thought was gangsters, and then he felt a little bad about judging on appearance alone.

At least until a man a foot taller than he with a pug-ugly face and a neck so fat it sloped like a mountain shoved his chair back, pulled a knife and approached. "This ain't a place for fancy folk like yourselves." He toyed with the knife. "Got guts coming here."

"You have guts as well." Salem remarked.

The man laughed, apparently mistaking Salem's eyes fixed on his wobbling stomach as she said it for a statement on his courage and not on how vulnerable he might be to having those guts spilled across the floor at a moment's notice.

"Good o' you to notice." The man leered and leaned in to breathe into Jaune's face. "What say you lose this petty loser and spend time with a man like me, huh? You're a nice piece of ass after all."

Salem pursed her lips together. "I am quite taken, thank you."

The man's eyes flicked sideways. "I wasn't talking about you." His hand slid behind and pinched Jaune's left butt cheek, making him yelp and jump on the spot. The blood quickly drained from his face as the massive mound of flesh leaned in so close he could smell cheap aftershave. "You look nice and soft-"

Green light flared. The man was lifted off the floor and launched back with a wave of energy, striking the far wall and collapsing down onto a table, shattering it and spilling poker chips and cheap beer across the floor.

"He is taken as well!" Salem hissed, hand outstretched and green light flickering between her fingers.

Jaune, still freaking out and panicky, asked "I am…?"

"Yes. You are."

"Oh." Jaune's brain failed to filter the information. "Okay. Um. Can we get a table?"

Nearby, two large men vacated theirs and held the chairs out invitingly. They downed their drinks, placed them on the bar and quickly sprinted out, slamming the door shut behind them. Others stared warily, intimidated by the fact they'd have to walk past Salem to reach the door. The fat man who had been thrown back groaned pitifully, his pockets being rifled through by the men on the table he'd broken.

"Not exactly the kind of place I thought we'd be at…" Jaune whispered.

"This is Roman we're talking about. The man is a rogue." Salem took her seat and stared at him with a raised eyebrow. It took Jaune a few second to remember his mom's lessons, blush, and hurry over to move her toward the table. Salem smiled as he took his own. "Thank you. Your manners bely your upbringing."

"Is that a compliment or an insult?"

"It's a compliment to you. You were not raised in the royal court, and yet you hold yourself to the standards of a gentleman. You would have done well there," she said suddenly. Her green-blue eyes met his and Jaune found himself trapped by them.

"Really? You think so?"

"I do. The court was all too often full of arrogant and foppish people – not unlike Roman. Then there were the taciturn and stern types like Hazel. You're honest and brave, humble and just. And yet not arrogant. You would have had quite the few admirers among the women of court."

"Oh please," Jaune laughed past his flush. "You're just saying that."

"I do not just say anything. My word is law."

"A-Ah. Right." He winced. There was no disagreeing with her sometimes. "I guess the world has changed a lot, though. People aren't looking for that so much anymore. Being a gentleman is seen as boring and old-fashioned."

"Not by everyone. I would much prefer a gentleman…"

"Doesn't that prove my point? You're the exception to the rule."

Salem toyed with her napkin. "I could be your excepti-"

"Are you ready to order?" A thick-shouldered woman with dark skin and a `don't mess with me` attitude approached the table. She had one arm covered and the other bare, tattooed from shoulder to wrist. It did little to hide the scars from what must have been a big Grimm.

Salem looked irritated at the interruption, though she quickly smoothed it over. "What is your finest dish?"

"Steak and chips."

"Fillet?"

"Steak."

"What cut?" Salem asked. "Rump? Sirloin? Shoulder?"

"Steak," the woman repeated in a tone that said she wouldn't be elaborating. "Take it or leave it. Comes with a pint of lager. 'n before you ask, it's lager. Not fine ale. Not stout. Not craft. Lager."

"We'll take two." Jaune said. Several other people were watching them and he didn't want them to come across too weak. There wasn't much chance that would mean anything to Salem, but they could both fall to a lucky knife in the back and this place was rough with a capital R. "Thank you."

The woman shrugged and left without asking how they wanted their steaks cooked. Salem glared at her retreating back and he just knew Roman was going to be getting an earful later about acceptable places to send one's liege. Honestly, Jaune felt like the man deserved it.

He probably chose this place on purpose. If the people here are all crooks and gang members then they're less likely to call the police. He'd take the trade-off of bad food in exchange for not having huntsmen and soldiers breaking down the door mid-meal.

"Sorry about that," he said to Salem. "I know this isn't the kind of place you're used to."

"It's not, but that is hardly your fault. Besides, the company more than makes up for it."

"R-Really?"

"You act surprised. Should you be? Look at the people I have spent the last decade with, Jaune. Hazel. Cinder. Tyrian." The last was groaned out, and he couldn't blame her. "Hazel is the best of them and he would go the whole day saying nothing if he could. I've not had a proper conversation in years – and the things you've shown me!" she enthused. "These places, these cultures, this… online gaming…"

"Yeah, I think I failed on the latter."

"No. It has opened my eyes."

"If the number of chat bans you've received is any indication, it's opened your eyes to the worst humanity has to offer."

"This military training programme has made its participants antagonistic and aggressive," she agreed. "That is to be expected. They must be receiving hormonal boosters to further their performance. It would explain the sheer number of sexist comments and threats I've received."

"None of which are acceptable!" Jaune said hotly.

"Of course not. But one does not rule over a kingdom without learning how to deal with criticism." Salem almost sounded wise there, except that whenever he raised criticism she went and ignored it. "And the correct method is to ignore it."

I bloody called it!

"Well, I'm glad you're enjoying your time out the tower. Does that mean you forgive me putting you in this situation?"

"No."

"Not even a little?"

"Not even that," she said, glaring over the table at him. "You are not getting out of this easily! You are going to stay by my side until you find a way to fix this."

"And if I don't?" he asked. "What if I can't find a way?"

"T-Then you will be staying by my side for a long time, won't you?" Salem looked away as she said that, hiding her face behind her hand. "D-Don't take that as an invitation to slack off, however. I… I am not above rewarding you for fixing this. I can be very generous."

This was the first time she'd brought up rewards and not threats – normally, it was all about how she'd destroy him or how he had no choice. Then again, those threats had started to ring hollow a while ago. Jaune hadn't really felt threatened by her or Tyrian in a while. Did he consider them… friends…? That was a strange question. There was no doubt he'd rather have been in Beacon than here, and they were both nuts. Insane. Pure dumb at times.

On the other hand, it was hard to go through so many things with two people and not connect with them on some level. Salem had saved him from the military at Argus, and Tyrian genuinely did seem to care for him – even if that care was agonising to deal with at times. He'd taken a bullet for Salem too, though he'd be hard-pressed to explain why.

Oh hell, he thought. I've become attached to them. Jaune Arc, you damn fool!

"I thought serving you was its own reward?" he asked, throwing back some of her previous words at her. Salem blushed.

"I…Is that how you feel? I-I do not disagree. I will always try to be a good master."

"To a slave?"

"You're not a slave any longer. A-And there is always upward mobility."

"Is this about my newfound promotion to Steward?"

"In part. Good service should be recognised. You have been very good. And with Roman becoming a Knight, I did not want you to feel that you are less important. You're not. You are my first knight, you are my favouri- ahem." Salem coughed into her hand. "Y-You are important. I have faith in you. The rank of Steward represents that. You would be trusted to look over my domain were I indisposed or away."

He almost pointed out she didn't have a realm but decided against it. Even symbolic, it was a nice gesture on her part – and he knew she meant it very literally. Plus, they did technically have Jaunesville, accursed as its name was. This probably made him effective mayor of the small village of former bandits and captives. He wondered how they were doing. Probably better than they were here.

"I appreciate the gesture. There's not much upward mobility from here though, is there? Is there anything else left for me to aspire to?"

"There is… one… position…"

"Is there?" Jaune laughed. It must have been one he didn't recognise, but then he was no history buff and hadn't even known what seneschal meant before she explained it to him. People back then had all been about titles and such from what little he did know, so it wasn't hard to imagine they'd made a bunch up. "I guess I'll be going straight for that then, huh? You better get ready to give me that title."

For some reason Salem's face took on a hue of red he wouldn't have thought possible. "A…A…Ahh," she opined, eyes roaming every which way but his. "I-I… well… I… I suspected, but to say it so boldly." She swallowed audibly. "Y-You are forward, Sir. Very forward."

"Am I? I'm just saying I'll do my best to match your expectations. Isn't that what you expect?"

"O-Of course!" Salem squeaked her answer. "I-I would expect no less. Deserve no less! And yet… I… it is…" She whispered under her breath. "It has been so long. I know not how to react. Forgive my inexperience."

Forgive? That word might not have meant much from anyone else, but it was as close to an apology as he had ever heard from Salem. That, more than anything, had his eyes widening. "There's nothing to forgive," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to startle you or anything. Did I say something wrong? You know I'm an idiot," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to say something and upset you."

"I… I am not upset." Salem took a deep breath and met his gaze head on. "I am not upset by this at all. In truth, I suspected… That sounds arrogant even to my ears, but it is so. It has been many thousands of years, Jaune of Arc," she said softly. "But if you truly seek to reach to such heights, I will not strike you down. I accept your efforts."

Salem thought for a moment and then reached up to bring some of her golden hair forward. With a flick of her fingers, green light severed a small amount from it. Jaune watched in confusion as she weaved the hair into a braid several inches long, then reached over the table to place it in his hand.

"What is this…?"

"A lock of mine hair," she said without meeting his eyes. "A token for a champion."

Some old culture he didn't know. Jaune ran his thumb over it, marvelling at just how soft her hair was. "Does this mean I'm your champion now?"

The question had her flustered. "It means I accept your suit!" she accused. "You must still prove yourself to me! This battlefield will be far more perilous than you are used to, good sir! I have had no shortage of capable warriors at my beck and call, but to win this challenge you must prove yourself as capable of victory in… in… in private quarters as on the battleground."

"Private quarters…?" He watched her face turn even redder. "Do you mean like hand to hand? Up, close and personal?"

"O-One could say that…"

"Then that won't be a problem." Jaune laughed, while Salem's eyes widened. "I bet I could do that right now-" Salem gasped and held a hand to her chest. "I may not be all that trained myself, but I've been putting a lot of work in with Tyrian and-"

A pair of hands slammed down on the table, snapping through Jaune's speech and Salem's shock. The table rocked aggressively, and Jaune looked up, about to ask just why the service here was so bad before he ended up face to face with a huntsman. A familiar huntsman. Qrow Branwen looked like he'd run a marathon.

"Qrow…? What are you doing here?"

"What am I doing here!?" he hissed. "What are you doing here! Do you have any idea what trouble is coming your way right now!?"

Jaune's heart clenched. He knew Roman was an idiot. "Ironwood? Ozpin?"

"No! Worse!"

"Worse…" Jaune looked to Salem. Salem shrugged back. Who could be worse than those two right now? "Tyrian…?" he hazarded. "It's Tyrian, isn't it?"

"NO!"

"My mom?"

"What?" Qrow shook his head. "No, you idiot! My niece and her team are on their way here! They've caught wind of you and are coming to bring you to justice. You two morons need to run before they get here and-"

Before he could finish, the doors slammed open and four young women burst in. Red, yellow, white, and black – they would have looked out of place in the dingy bar without that colour distinction, but it only made the contrast between them and the rougher customers all the more apparent. That a freaking scythe of all things was being pointed their way didn't make it any better.

"Shit." Qrow swore.

"SHIT!" the blonde among the four girls echoed, pointing. "They've got Uncle Qrow hostage! Get 'em!"

Team RWBY getting in over their heads. Don't worry, I'm sure that if things get bad Raven will totally use her "one time save" to rescue them. Until she spots Salem, turns around and "nopes" the hell outta there.

Next Chapter: 29th November

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