So, yesterday we welcomed a new member of the family into the al'Aran household, a black and white border collie puppy. I've named it Kali, and yes, after that Kali. We have a dog named Kali, which means we're now officially trolling Blake harder than ever.
She's very lovely, but has currently focused on me pretty hard, and will neither sleep nor stop crying if I'm not right next to or touching her. I had to write IKS yesterday with her in a dog bed balanced on my lap with one of my hands in it, her head resting on it, the other writing the bloody story.
Just to know, there's a break here which in any other situation would be a chapter ending. Since I had more time to write and because it would have been a short chapter, however, I didn't. When you get to it, it's clearly marked. Just imagine what comes after is a completely different chapter. It's a small thing, but a thing nonetheless.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 5: Chapter 15
The moment they drew their weapons, so too did all of us, steel rasping forth in a cacophony of sound. There were only two of them, a Warrior and a Barbarian. Two melee Classes, but there was no telling if they were Soldier Caste or Hero. It might not have made a difference in terms of their Class, but it could in levels. They also had the high ground, several steps up the staircase and ready to fend us off.
But there were fourteen of us – and many of our retinue were some of the most elite soldiers of the Mistral army, still dressed in their crimson cloaks that marked them as Corvo's personal bodyguard, injured only because they'd held the gates during the retreat, facing the same kinds of hordes of Grimm I had, or maybe even more. They were as good as Heroes, I was sure.
Further up ahead, toward the temple, a light flared. It was like fire but it seemed to grow in intensity, casting the pillars in a ruddy orange glow. The temple, sat atop its peak, now looked like a lit beacon. Whatever was happening up there, I knew I – we – needed to stop. I shot Corvo a desperate look that he immediately understood.
"Sarah, take command of my retinue and deal with these two." He barked his orders and an injured woman nodded, stepping forward. "You," he said, grasping the shoulder of the only Vale Soldier among us. "Come with the Knight and I. We shall break through."
"O-Okay," the soldier stammered, looking to me for a second opinion. When I nodded, he fell in line behind me, obviously trusting me more than the General of the Mistral army. Even so, he didn't appear to hold the same hatred much of the Labour Caste did.
"You shall not interfere," one of the Greycloaks said ominously. He stepped to the left, his fellow to the right, the two spreading out to better cut off the entire staircase.
Corvo's bodyguards wouldn't have it. They closed the distance immediately, cutting between the two and then forcing them further aside. I saw Sarah crash her sword into one of the Greycloaks, not to actually harm him, but to force him to lock blades. She then used all her strength to force him back, creating a tight opening between the two.
"Now," I shouted, dashing for it. Corvo and the Vale Soldier fell in behind me and the Greycloaks saw it. They tried to disengage but found themselves trapped by a wall of black-armoured bodies. The Mistral soldiers created a tunnel through which we ran, and soon we were free, taking the steps two at a time as the ring and clash of steel was left behind.
"They'll be fine," Corvo shouted. "Even injured, they're still my bodyguards. Don't worry about them!"
It was easier said than done but I nodded anyway. If the two Greycloaks were Heroes of a level similar to Tyrian or Watts, then numbers or not, those soldiers were doomed. I had to believe that wasn't the case, though. It was only ever the leaders that had been so strong. If there was someone on their level, they'd be in the temple.
And we were running right for them.
No Pyrrha this time, I thought. No Blake to save me at the last second. No Weiss, no Ren – no Qrow Branwen. Just me, Corvo and a soldier who is almost certainly weaker than both of us. I bit my lip as fear rolled through me. I also knew of two who might potentially be ahead, either of which could be stronger than me. Neither of those on the staircase had been Roman or Neo.
The stairs came to an end, bringing me out onto a flat plateau of marble tiles broken ahead by a final five steps leading up to a raised floor and deeper into the temple structure. Despite what it had first looked like, the design wasn't entirely open. There were three entrances on three different sides, each with a winding corridor that looked to head toward some central chamber – probably where people had worshipped in the past, though I imagined now repurposed for a new role.
I didn't sheathe Crocea Mors and the other two took their cue from me. Three entrances and three of us was tempting, but I waved them towards the central one along with me. I didn't like the idea of us splitting up just yet.
"What do you think is happening?" the Vale soldier asked. Corvo looked to me for an answer as well. I doubted either of them had ever met or heard of Salem. I decided not to tell them, knowing it would be too difficult to accept.
"Nothing good. I've seen something like this before and they were sacrificing the Labour Caste members."
The two gasped, though Corvo was quick to recover. "Some kind of purge? That is ridiculous. NPCs may be below us, but they are still necessary."
"Just keep your wits about you."
The temple was well-lit at this point, a fact I was grateful for as it let us rely on the light from the torches and meant we didn't give our approach away. The sound of sonorous chanting caught my attention as we moved deeper. Was the summoning ritual for Salem already underway? I'd dared to hope the fact we had the tome in Beacon would mean that avenue was closed to the Greycloaks. It appeared I was wrong.
We reached the centre of the temple without incident. The arrival of it was welcomed with clearer chanting, though still mumbled by far too many voices. The corridor opened up suddenly, expanding into a long, rectangular room with tall pillars on either side. Further down it, there was also an emblem or symbol etched into the floor, made of what looked to be solid gold plates or tiles. What caught my attention, however, was how many people were huddled within, easily five hundred– maybe more. They were clumped together in small groups, some huddling for warmth or comfort, and others staring around with wide eyes.
That changed the closer they got to the front of the temple, opposite us, where a large fire and several robed figures stood. They were too far away to make out much other than the grey cloaks and the names above their heads. I couldn't make out the details.
As the crowds of civilians got closer, however, the panic seemed to evaporate. Rather than huddle or cry, they sat on their knees, chanting and staring ahead with unfaltering focus. It didn't seem natural. They were too rigid, too stiff, too in unison. It reminded me of the Labour Caste in Mistral, who had held us down as ordered by Tyrian. What was going on here?
"I see we have guests," the robed figure at the pyre said. He didn't shout, nor did he seem to raise his voice, but it carried to us easily, despite the distance and the chanting – which didn't cease. I couldn't place the voice, even if I was sure I'd heard it before.
It didn't really matter. I raised my sword, pointing it toward the figure. Despite the wounds on my body, the cut on my cheek which bled even now and the clear exhaustion, I tried my hardest to cut an intimidating figure. "For crimes against Vale, Atlas and Mistral, all Greycloaks are to surrender immediately. If you do so, I promise you will be fairly tried."
The man chuckled, truly amused. He waved the two figures by him forward. Clad in their signature cloaks, the two figures – one tall, the other short – moved forward. My hands tightened on the hilt of my weapon, waiting until they were close to the floor before they threw their hoods back.
It… wasn't Torchwick or Neo. I wasn't sure why that surprised me, but it did. I'd expected them so greatly that I lowered my guard for a second. Was this one of Neo's illusions? Were they disguised?
"Move!" Corvo yelled, pushing me aside.
A fireball struck the spot I'd stood in, splashing on the tiles and charring them. One of the Greycloaks – the short one – raised a staff high. A Mage, then, not an Illusionist or a Thief. My body moved on instinct alone, charging forward in an attempt to close the distance. It was the only way to fight a Mage properly – that or to seek cover, but in a room filled with innocent civilians, I couldn't do that.
"Take the other," I said to Corvo and the Vale soldier. "I've got this one!"
I didn't hear a response but trusted they'd do as I asked. My eyes focused on the Mage, who was older than me and had brown hair flecked with white. Fighting a Mage was tricky. I knew that from watching people fight Weiss, and from the occasional spar I'd had with her myself. At range, they were all but invincible, capable of spells both offensive and defensive. Fighting them was often a game; one where you had to see whether you could close the distance or not, with failure leading to defeat. In turn, they would seek to slow your approach and control you.
Weiss was brilliant at that, her Path naturally leading towards control, and most of the spells she favoured containing an element of ice. While she could use fire and any other, she rarely did, and only for utility. This Mage seemed to have taken a different Path, for he focused solely on spells that would cause the most damage, or so it seemed. Fireballs rained down on me, splashing embers far and wide where they missed.
A scream from behind chilled me to my bone. One of the Labour Caste had been hit with a stray bit of flame, which was now eating up the side of her body. Despite that, she continued to chant, arms held above her head, face frozen in a rictus of terror.
I could go back and stomp out the flames – but that would leave me open, and directly in the middle of an entire crowd of innocent people. I'd make an easy target and so many would die with me, her included.
"Put out your flames!" the cloaked figure at the head of the temple commanded. The woman froze, but quickly seemed to regain control of her body and rolled to the side, dousing them. "Do not waste your life here, child. Come." He gestured for her to walk toward him.
"Don't!" I snapped back.
She didn't heed my words. I moved to grab her arm but another blast of fire cut me off, forming a wall between me and her. "Your opponent is me," the Mage said cockily. "Or did you think you could come here and interfere with our purpose without consequence?"
The woman was perhaps a quarter of the way to the lead Greycloak, giving me time. Beyond, I could see that Corvo and the soldier had engaged the other one. If I could finish mine quick, I could still help them all.
The Mage backed away as I leapt in. He twisted and waved his staff before him and a wave of heat washed over me. I clenched my eyes shut to pass through it, taking some damage but knowing I could bring it through thanks to my high Constitution. He seemed surprised, especially when I tore through and brought my sword down over his head.
And then he smiled.
A shimmering ring burst into life behind him and he stepped back into it. It closed before my sword cut down, and I had the barest moment to hear and feel a rush of heat toward my back before the fire exploded against me. My body crashed into the tiles and slammed into a pillar. When I turned, it was in time to see another rushing toward me and I barely dodged in time.
The Mage was standing where I'd stood less than a minute earlier, now with his back to his own wall of fire and facing me as I stood where he had. We'd switched places. Or rather, he'd instantly travelled to where I'd started from.
"You almost had me, boy. Why not try again."
He was taunting me, I knew, but there wasn't much I could do about it. The only other option was to not close in, at which point he'd pepper me with spells until one got through and killed me. I didn't have a choice but to charge again. This time I made sure to keep my steps measured and to watch him carefully.
A few more attacks caught me as I came in, though none did any significant damage. I felt my armour take some, and while my pant leg did catch fire, I was able to ignore the pain for the moment. As I lunged for him again, this time I saw the shimmer of light behind more clearly, and through it, into a scene which seemed to show my own back. He stepped in. It closed, but I dove to the left, narrowly dodging an attack that would have impacted on me and thrown me into the earlier summoned wall of fire.
Portals. He was using portals; the same kind that Miss Goodwitch had used to bring us to our First Quest, and yet smaller, quicker and on a more local scale. Not knowing much about how it worked, I could still imagine it took less power to move fifteen metres than it did fifteen miles, and to move only yourself. This Mage seemed to have mastered that, and rather than using spells to control my movement, he instead focused on controlling his own positioning. It was ingenious. I'd have appreciated it more if it wasn't being used against me, though.
It also answered another unasked question. "Where did you send Torchwick and Neo?"
"Oh, you figured it out?" Unlike the Greycloaks on the stairs, the Mage seemed content to boast. "Their work was done here and they were called away. We've not had the best luck infiltrating locations and they're particularly good at it."
My eyes narrowed. "Where?"
"You think I'm just going to tell you? That would be rather stupid."
It would, but then I was counting on his arrogance. "I guess you're not very confident you'll beat me, then," I mocked. "Don't tell me you're exhausted from making a bigger portal for those two? You can surrender if you want."
"Tch, you're a mouthy brat. Not that it matters. As you say, you'll die here soon enough. I sent your pretty friends to Vacuo; hope they like the sun there."
Vacuo. I made a mental note of it, looked back in time to see the controlled woman almost reach the robed figure, and dashed back towards my Mage. As expected, he used his portals to escape again, this time back to where he'd been before, almost perfectly so. I stopped to catch my breath, which invited a few attacks in my direction. This time, rather than take them I ducked behind the stone pillar behind me, using it for cover.
"Do you think I'll come over there to move you?" the Mage laughed. "I'm no fool." An explosion caught the other side of it, shaking me and the pillar itself. He was going to cut through it with magic, which I'd mostly expected. Still, it gave me a chance to look out and spot my opening. I wanted for another spell to hit the pillar, shaking dust from the ceiling. I pushed off it and dashed out after the Mage once more – seeking to close the distance while he was recovering from the last attack.
"Die!" I roared, swinging towards him.
"Fool," he laughed, vanishing into another portal. He appeared back where I'd been, raised his staff, but then froze as a cracking sound echoed behind him. The pillar he'd struck had started to tumble, aided by my solid push before I'd charged him. It tottered and teetered, now threatening to fall down and crush him.
With a wave of his staff he summoned another portal, but when he tried to step into it, he stumbled and fell. Panicked, he looked down at the ground, where his right foot was stuck, almost sunken into the floor. He couldn't get into the portal.
His eyes shot to me in time to see me on one knee, bare hand pressed against the solid gold tiles which made the religious symbol inlaid into the floor. Where my hand touched it, a burn mark looked to have traced all the way to him, but in truth it was nothing more than an etched line. And beneath him, where I knew he'd land, a chasm had formed in the gold, trapping his foot.
Gold was still technically a metal, after all.
"How?" the Mage gasped.
He didn't get an answer. The pillar tumbled down, crushing and killing him under at least a tonne of falling rock and marble. The wall of fire behind me blinked out of existence.
I didn't have the time to savour my victory. The moment it fell, I saw that the woman from before had reached the main Greycloak and stood now before him. Corvo and the soldier were just finishing off their opponent, Corvo killing him with a blistering attack, both swords gleaming in the firelight. They reached me, a little more injured, a little more winded.
"Rejoice," the man at the front said, arms held high. "You shall become a part of something greater than you ever could before. Go now, go and be with her."
"No," the woman begged loudly. "No, please. No!"
Despite her words, the woman stepped past the man – and walked into the burning pyre.
Her screams echoed shrilly, before they stopped.
Behind her, and the Greycloak, a dark shadow appeared to coalesce. I'd seen it before. I knew what it was. Her voice seemed to echo in my mind and I could imagine her laughter, her smile, and the way she would refer to me. Deceiver. I couldn't let it happen.
"Kill him!" I roared. "Kill him quickly!"
The Greycloak turned to us as we charged forward. Corvo was faster than me, unsurprising given my poor Agility. He raced forwards with both swords ready to cut the man's feet from under him, but the figure turned and raised both hands, revealing no weapon. Instead, he barked a single command.
"HALT!"
I tripped.
It was hard to explain, but I tripped. Both my feet had stopped working for an instant, and since my momentum was still very much forwards, I fell hard, only just catching the floor with my shoulder as I skittered forward. Corvo was no better, practically somersaulting into the steps leading up to the dais and cracking his head against it. He wasn't knocked out but he'd cut himself badly and gripped it with one hand. His swords flew away.
The other soldier took it far worse. His body locked up almost immediately and he fell onto his knees, eyes widen and chest rising and falling desperately. His entire body trembled, seeking to obey the command.
This was… I didn't know what it was. Salem had a similar presence, but I realised it was different a moment later. Salem's presence was instinctual and immediate, more a factor of what she was, rather than what she said. She hadn't been able to control our actions with words and it always felt like a smothering weight pressing down on me. This was different. This was like a strong urge to obey, which had hit my muscles faster than it had my head. Quite simply, my legs had followed his command to the letter.
I had no idea what it was, but Corvo apparently did.
"Noble," he snarled.
A Noble – a member of the Noble Caste? I managed to push myself up onto one knee to try and get a better look at the figure, but he was still too far away to make out any real details or to get an idea of what his Class actually was. Still, Corvo must have been able to see it better than I.
I had no idea how to fight a member of the Noble Caste. I had no idea how they fought at all, since presumably they didn't. All Classes had the same Stats, which meant anyone could pick up a weapon and swing it around, but he had none.
Was this Charisma…?
No. That was insane. Charisma couldn't do this, surely. It helped influence people and was the main Stat of my mother and sisters, but for them it only helped clinch a good deal every now and then. Torchwick had been able to use his Dexterity as Charisma, and I could remember the doubt that had invaded my mind when he told us we could be friends and not fight, but even that hadn't been quite so immediate as this, nor quite so unconscious. Torchwick had tried to convince me to put down my weapons. This man had made me stop my charge.
"Your responsibility is to your people," Corvo growled. "You have a duty to protect your flock – not to kill them, nor use them for means such as this! You are a monster and I shall slay you."
"Go ahead, General," the man laughed. "I wonder how that would look – to see Mistral soldiers and the General of Mistral's army surrounded by dead NPCs. The Treaty would be shattered in an instant and all of Vale thrown into a war of which the likes have never been seen before. Mistral and Vale would be torn asunder, so go, Solder. Slay me." He spread his arms wide. "If you can."
Corvo tried, he really did, but no matter how much he tried to move, his body refused. He was a similar level to me or higher – quite possibly higher – and seeing him helpless was a blow to my stomach. I tried to move, too, and managed to stagger two paces forward before I was drawn down to one knee again. It was forward movement which was difficult. Paradoxically, I had no difficulty keeping hold of Crocea Mors, or looking around. He'd commanded I stop moving and I had.
Was this the power of the Noble Caste? That didn't make sense, since even if they had an A Stat in Charisma, theirs would have to be ridiculously high to affect me. Noble or not, this man was a very high level, possibly similar to Watts, though, I imagined, far less capable in melee combat.
Now, if only I could get him into it…
"There is no time," the man said. "The ritual must be completed. She must be summoned. The negativity had almost reached its peak and yet a little more is required to tip the scales." His eyes trailed over us, but lit up when he saw that one of our party had already reached the dais. "Come, General. It will be such delicious irony to see you be the one responsible for summoning her. Your grief, your pain and your anger will feed the flames and feed the ritual."
Corvo stood, unable to stop himself. He tried to reach for his weapons but his feet dragged him away before he could, almost like a marionette who had lost all strings but those that controlled his lower body. It was obvious from his face that he fought every step.
"I… I refuse," Corvo bit out.
"Oh, but you shall, General. Know that your pain will bring about the ruin of all you know here. Step into the flames."
Corvo's body shook. "N-No. I refuse."
"Step into the flames," the Greycloak repeated calmly. The power of his words seemed to become greater and Corvo groaned, shuddering forward.
"Stop!" I howled. "She'll kill you! You can't make a deal with her – she always goes back on her word! She only brings pain and misery."
"Silence, fool." He spared me a glare and my lips sealed shut. "Walk into flames, General Isaac Corvo. Summon her, and soon I shall have my wish."
Corvo's face flashed with rage.
But then, an eerie calm.
"You say my negativity will summon her?" he panted, face slick with sweat. The Noble must have smiled or nodded, for Corvo laughed. "Then you underestimate a soldier, dear Noble." The General stepped forward, this time under his own power. He spread his arms wide, welcoming the heat. "There is not one soldier who is not prepared to give his life to protect his fellows, his country, or those that he loves. I accept this fate. I accept this sacrifice. Know that I do so with love for my King, my country, my people, my men, my family and my friends."
Corvo fell face-first into the pyre.
The Noble's control of my vocal chords snapped under some invisible pressure. "CORVO! NO!"
The flames seemed to grow taller and more intense, fed by the man who had thrown himself into it.
"Yes," the Greycloak howled. "Yes, it is working. It is finally—No…" He stepped back. "NO!"
The shadow behind the fire had started to fade. The ominous presence that had filled the temple did so as well, receding like night giving way to day. The Greycloak looked horrified, unable to understand why this was happening.
But I did. I understood.
The Ritual fed on negativity and pain, but by that same logic would be fought back by the opposite. At the end, at the moment of his death, Corvo had realised this, and wilfully sacrificed himself knowing his death might save thousands. For someone such as he, such a sacrifice would bring no regret. He'd done his duty, and in doing so saved Magnis.
"No, this doesn't make sense. I – more sacrifices. I need more-"
But for me, on one knee, useless, Corvo's death brought its own emotions. I screamed my rage and stood. Something held me back, but it shattered in an instant. I took a single step forward to test myself and found no restraint. I ran toward the Greycloak.
"Stop!" he commanded, pointing at me.
The command hit me, but this time I was prepared. I tensed – and in some strange way, that helped. It was like I was prepared for a blow to the stomach and so not winded by it. I felt the command land on me but it washed off. I kept moving.
"Stop!" he called again, louder this time, with more panic in his voice. "Stop moving. Don't come any closer. Get down on one knee!" He tried command after command, before he threw both arms wide. "EVERYONE STOP!"
The command washed far and wide. The Vale soldier froze and tumbled. The Labour Caste crowd stopped their chanting and fell to their sides, almost unable to move. I felt it, too. I felt my body grow heavy and my legs beg for me to rest.
But it was a dull feeling compared to everything else. I reached the first step. The second and third were cleared in a single leap. The Noble cried out in abject terror, suddenly aware that his commands had no control over me, or that I'd somehow resisted them. He fumbled for a dagger under his cloak. I batted it aside and him with it, spinning him so that he faced the inferno.
"Wait," he cried. "You cannot kill me. The Treaty forbids it."
I gripped his shoulder with one hand and leaned close.
"The Treaty doesn't say anything about an NPC killing a Noble, does it?"
His fat face looked at mine. I recognised him at the last. Lord Roux, the Noble that Neo had `assassinated` on our first night here. He looked terrified. "N-NPC… What?!"
My sword rammed through his back, splashing his blood down onto the dais. The ritual was over, the circle broken when I'd crossed it, snuffing away the markings with one foot. He knew it, too, for he shrieked in fear.
It soon died when I pulled Crocea Mors free and gave him a solid kick in the back, forcing him into the fires of his own making. His dying wail pierced through the silence, reaching a crescendo that threatened to deafen me before it slowly expired. Corvo hadn't screamed, even once.
"So falls Lord Roux," I snarled. "Coward and traitor."
Outside the temple, I heard the shriek of some unnatural bird. It was followed with elated cheering.
It was not three minutes later when I stood listlessly on the top of the steps leading up to the temple, supported by the wounded Vale soldier, who had one arm under my shoulder. Before me only four remained of Corvo's bodyguard, and the woman he'd ordered was no longer among the living. They looked at me expectantly, worriedly.
They saw the answer on my face and bowed their heads.
Down below I could see the Grimm be beat back. I could see shimmering portals in multiple locations – and one far larger in the centre of the courtyard, from which figures continued to pour. I saw Tsune, the Priest. I saw Port, the Cavalier. I thought I saw Ozpin, too, striding forth with a calm grace. And I knew Cinder was already here, for her Phoenix was tearing through the Grimm.
The reinforcements had come at last.
/-/ Imagine the following as a new chapter /-/
Beacon had become something of an international infirmary in the days after Magnis. All the wounded had been brought there for treatment and since many of those were from Mistral, it made for some complicated arrangements. Luckily, Ozpin had already spoken with the King, who had agreed to extend guest right to them for their brave defence of Valean lives. Even so, they remained in Beacon and didn't dare head into the city itself.
Though Magnis had been saved, it had been at great cost and both the Vale and Mistral army involved had been brought down to a mere fraction of their original strength, not to mention that the fortress itself was as good as ruined. It had to be abandoned, too damaged from the siege to be safe. Last I'd heard, the refugees had been given temporary housing in Vale and would be given options once the war was over. It would be hard living, I assumed, but it would be living.
On the brighter side, the war had been called into an immediate and temporary ceasefire. Both sides had learned of what happened and were now aware that a single battle might spark a similarly sized attack by the Grimm. None wanted that, knowing it would lead to another Magnis, and so both had agreed to back off temporarily. It was only a small reprieve, as Weiss made sure to tell us. It was to let the negativity settle and nothing more.
But it was a start, and it provided opportunity.
"If we can convince them to stop fighting for two months, we can convince them to stop fighting altogether," Cinder had said.
Exhausted and wounded as I'd been, hearing that had been enough to bring a smile to my face. At least we hadn't sacrificed so much in vain.
Of the Guild, we were lucky. No one had fallen, even if our injuries were rife. Though I'd been the worst injured at first, I'd come out the least in the end, mostly because killing Roux hadn't led to anything and the others had been forced to fight the Grimm while exhausted. There were no lost limbs and nothing permanent, however, but we were sent for some intensive healing sessions with Tsune. Not even magic could heal all wounds, however. I'd bear the scar beneath my eye for life, and the teeth marks in my shoulder, too. The wounds had been there too long for everything to be healed.
It was an insignificant price to pay and I welcomed it.
On a far more squeamish note, it turned out Velvet could use her Skills to sew wounds shut. It was something I'd never known and never wanted to see again, but sadly Tsune couldn't be everywhere and there were many open wounds that had to be closed.
But after a day or two of frantic healing, the worst was done and those that could recover were well on the way to it. Mistral had been invited to send a contingent to the city to collect their soldiers, and diplomats were already arranging it. It looked like both sides were determined to honour the ceasefire. The benefits of either side breaking it were far outweighed by the risk of another Grimm army spawning and attacking theirs.
In a way, the Grimm had brought peace – or the Greycloaks had. I refused to accept that.
"Vacuo, you say?"
"Yes, sir," I answered, sat opposite the headmaster. "He said the two were sent to Vacuo, so their next plan must be centred there. Whatever Neo and Roman are doing for them, it's important."
"I can see that, Mr Arc. Well done on securing this information. How is your Guild?"
"Recovering." I hoped the hint wasn't too obvious, but alas, he caught it.
"I wasn't suggesting I would send them our straight away," Ozpin chuckled.
"But you will be sending us out again."
The headmaster stilled. For a moment he looked incredibly guilty. "I will. You and yours have proven uniquely suited to fighting the Greycloaks. We've had such little success elsewhere that I dare not entrust the task to anyone else. I am sorry for that pressure, Mr Arc."
"It's fine." It wasn't, but both of us knew that. There was no one else Ozpin could trust. "Will we get a little rest at least?"
"That, I can promise you. Cinder and I are discussing ways to stretch this ceasefire into an official peace treaty. It will be difficult, but I hope we can achieve it. If it's possible, we'd prefer to have peace before we have to hunt the Greycloaks. It would make life significantly easier for us."
That it would, and I would have loved to see it, too. With the meeting over and nothing more to say, I excused myself with a nod and staggered outside once more, into the fresh air of a new day. I breathed it in and let it go. Even knowing the Greycloaks were still out there and that Torchwick had escaped once more, I couldn't bring myself to feel too upset. We'd all survived and this time we'd actually been able to prevent Salem's summoning.
We were making progress. We were getting stronger.
Well, I certainly was. Inept in a fight or not, Lord Roux had been a high level Noble and I'd slain him single-handedly, along with the Mage in the temple. I felt stronger than I ever had before and that wasn't just confidence talking. Both Roux and the Mage had been strong; neither qualifying as small fry, and I'd benefited appropriately. I'd gained three levels.
Not that it mattered now. I was battered, bruised and nursing fatigue I'd never before experienced, even as I slowly descended the steps down into the Guild Village, taking them with a torturous lack of haste, one hand on the balcony at all times. Halfway down, I considered giving up and napping there for an hour or two, but forced myself on.
Beacon's Guild Village was still mostly deserted. Though the war might have officially been paused, there were still Grimm to contend with and captured villages and towns to patrol, not to mention frequent hunting parties sent to Magnis to make sure the lingering negativity didn't grow into something worse. Beacon was busy, the Heroes were busy, but we – blessedly – had been granted time to heal and rest.
We needed it.
Everyone was in the living room when I arrived. It wasn't hard to see why, since no one had the energy or will to move anywhere. Weiss was sprawled over the back of a couch in an undignified pose, bandages wrapped around her head, and there wasn't a single other person in a better situation. They all looked up when I arrived and waved weakly.
I filled them in as best I could and collapsed into a couch of my own. A few weeks back, that would have been beside Blake and I doubted anyone missed that it wasn't here, that Blake sat with Weiss instead. Our eyes met, and despite the issues between us she managed a tentative nod to me. We had to talk, I knew that.
But not today. Neither of us was prepared for it right now.
"Peace, huh?" Yang leaned back and sighed. "Peace feels like decades ago. I hope it works out."
"True peace won't be achieved until a treaty is signed and dotted," Weiss said.
"Not to mention the Greycloaks," Pyrrha added. "I doubt they'll stop now. Even if Jaune stopped her being summoned, there are far more who want a chance at a wish, not to mention Torchwick."
"A Mage and his Sentinel, a disgraced Hero and now a Noble lord of a city," Ren mused. "The Greycloaks certainly have a wide range of followers. I thought they were unconnected, but to hear that Torchwick is being sent between them…"
"There's some organisation," Weiss finished. "Or someone controlling it all, unifying them."
There was more going on here. I think we'd all realised that now, especially with what had happened in Magnis. Everything else had been, at least on some level, acts not impossible to hide. Magnis was a blatant act of aggression and one that couldn't be missed. It was something only possible because of the fact that Mistral and Vale were at war, as orchestrated by the Greycloaks earlier.
We'd stop them in time, I decided, but that was for another day. After the nightmares of Magnis, I felt we'd more than earned our rest.
No one disagreed.
So, this is the second-to-last chapter of Book 5 – with the final chapter being next Monday. That means there will be a week after where this fic doesn't update, which will be used by me to plan every chapter of the next book.
Next chapter will deal with a bit more of the personal and inter-personal aspects of Book 5, rounding up some things and tying up some loose ends with regards to Magnis - i.e. better explaining what happened at the end, etc. Also, we have Jaune using his true heritage in some interesting ways this chapter. He's starting to think like a Blacksmith, our boi.
There were a few clues to Lord Roux being responsible, but I'll list them next chapter if people have questions. On Roux himself, he would be very high level because as has been shown before, you can gain EXP for doing jobs related to your Class and skills. I.e. Jaune gets exp for making things, and it was mentioned before that Roux had gone on something of a construction spree in Magnis, fortifying it, etc. Almost like he a) expected something and b) was farming Exp by ordering all of this. As such, and with for how long he's ruled Magnis, he was a very high level.
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Jaune Arc
Level 33 (+3)
Blacksmith
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Str: 96 (+12) (A)
Con: 75 (+10) (B)
Dex: 20 (+2) (D) (Rune: 24)
Agi: 34 (+3) (C)
Int: 48 (+5) (C)
Wis: 65 (+9) (B)
Cha: 15 (+1) (D)
Res: 110 (+19) (A)
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Passive Skill
-Fire from the Forge-
Immunity to heat, flames and associated damage caused from his forging process.
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Known Active Skills
-Stoke the Forge-
Generate intense heat in the hand for a short period of time, capable of super-heating metal to forging temperatures without the use of a forge.
-Quench-
Rapidly cool metal-based material to achieve a hardening effect during the forging process. Quench can only be used in metallurgy, as opposed to Stoke the Forge, which can generate heat in the hand irrespective of what it is then used on.
-Runesmithing-
The ability to etch Runes onto weapons, the effect of which is determined by the Rune itself. Limited to a single Rune per weapon.
-Engraving-
Engrave intricate patterns into metal-based material without the use of tools. Speed of technique determined by complexity and size of design.
- Weapon Runes-
Rune of Minor Dexterity - +4 to Dexterity
Rune of Minor Constitution - +4 to Constitution
-Armour Runes-
Rune of Cold Steel - +16 Constitution, Inflict Ice-Based Damage on Retaliation
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Next Chapter: 21st May
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
