Here we are. The Final Chapter of Book 6. There will be no update on this next week because, as usual, I will have a one week break to better plot and plan Book 7. The story will resume October 1st.


Beta: College Fool

Cover Art: Dishwasher1910

Book 6: Chapter 15 (Final)


Everything was different.

Everything was the same.

Everything was as it was meant to be.

The conflicting statements echoed in my mind as steam poured off my body. New information poured into my mind, the specifics of my Class, my Skills, everything. Some of it made no sense. Some of it, I realised, I'd need to take time to better understand. But beyond that, there was a sense of intuitive control, like I'd been this way all my life. Or like this was but an extension of what I'd been before.

I was still, in all ways that mattered, Jaune Arc.

But I was also something… different.

Hybrid. Multi-Class. Dual-Spec. None of the words quite fit and yet they all flashed around inside my head, threatening me with a migraine. I didn't have the time to think deeper on it. The few seconds of shock my standing had granted me wore off, with Cinder letting out a startled gasp.

"Impossible," she whispered.

Impossible? Yes. I supposed it was. Then again, what did we know of what was possible and what was not? How much of what we knew was equal parts assumption and an unwillingness to experiment? How impossible was the thought of a Blacksmith fighting on the level of a Hero, anyway? How impossible was Ansel standing up and defeating a force sent to burn it to the ground? All these things were impossible, and yet here we stood.

"Not impossible," I said, and I was relieved to find that my voice was unchanged. "Simply… unknown."

Cinder snarled. It was almost in slow motion that she swung her arm forward, summoning a great gout of flame and hurling it towards me. I knew her thoughts as she did. I was no longer a Blacksmith, therefore my one defence against her fire was lost. In elevating myself, I'd weakened myself.

It was something well thought out.

And yet equally flawed.

Ducking low, I surged towards the fires, eyes flashing once as I shifted in a way I instinctively knew how. The words above my head changed – my perception of the world changed – and suddenly I was returned, a Blacksmith once more. My left hand touched my armour a second later and the heat was back, roaring to life as my armour turned bright red. All of it happened in the space of a few seconds and yet Cinder did not see it, her view obstructed by her own attack. I powered through it, emerging from the other side with an angry roar. Cinder backpedalled, panicked, and summoned her swords once more.

My mind clicked. New information, new strength, rushed into me. When our blades clashed, I was a Swordmaster once again.

And I was strong.

With grace I'd never before possessed, I slid into and around her guard, catching one of her blades on mine and bringing my hilt up, twisting her left arm aside and parrying her right with my cross guard. My left foot slid forward, between hers, and I jabbed the pommel of Crocea Mors into her face, stunning her. Following through, the blade came up and down, down onto her collarbone. Cinder screamed in pain and staggered back, blood pouring from the wound.

"How?" she gasped. "My cloth is the finest in Mistral. It should have blocked that!"

Hm. I thought I'd felt some resistance. It went to show how powerful she was, not just because of her Skills and Class, but her station. As a Prestige Class, Mistral had bent over backwards to provide her every advantage she might need. A stark contrast to myself.

It might have worked, too, but for my new Passive.

Blade Bond: Damage increases in line with length of time the same sword has been wielded.

I had to smile. A flawed Passive, just like my old one. It emphasised using the same weapon, which would be a weakness for any normal person because it incentivised turning down obvious upgrades or better equipment. Of course, that wasn't an issue for me. Every time I'd found a new weapon, I melted it down and used it to re-forge Crocea Mors. I'd only done this because it let me eke out a little more Exp, and so that I didn't have to get used to new weight, balance or reach.

Was this my Path at work again, even before I'd become a Swordmaster? Qrow had complained about Paths and stressed them as inhibitive, but I wasn't so sure. My Path had helped me time and time again, almost as if it were trying its hardest to accommodate what I wanted. It could have forced me back into the life of a Blacksmith if it wanted, but it gave me Skills that could conceivably be used in combat. Now, as a Swordmaster, I'd been granted a Passive that I doubted anyone could make use of as well as I.

Enough to let me tear through whatever protections Cinder had.

"Surrender, Cinder. You can't get past my defence as a Blacksmith, and as a Swordmaster I'll outpace you in melee. You can't win this fight."

Cinder's eyes flickered with some rare emotion. Fear. She knew she was in trouble and her attention shifted to her King. When it turned back to me, her expression was firm. Resigned. "I cannot."

"Fight his influence!"

"I cannot," she repeated. With a heavy sigh, Cinder leapt forward, engaging me once more. I blocked and parried, drawing her back. All the while I cursed in my head.

Fucking Charisma! I hated it! Even as a Swordmaster it was my worst Stat, and yet I'd kept all the same ones from being a Blacksmith, with only my Skills and some of my parameters changing. I'd felt it in the two levels I'd gained from smelting the sword into me, it being a rare and magical artefact and thus worthy of a whole lot of Exp. My Dex, for example, had jumped up a lot more than it used to. My Res remained my greatest Stat, however. I wished it did for Cinder, too. Maybe then she'd have been better able to resist her King.

We traded blows at a furious pace. Cinder's blades rarely broke past my defence, but when they did I tanked them without concern, making her pay for each with another wound that bit deeper and deeper each time. If I could just knock her down, get past her, and reach her King, then I might be able to break his control over her. I could free her.

Cinder didn't make it easy. She figured out my plan early on and smiled softly, despite the brutal fight we were engaged in.

"Ever the Hero. Right, Jaune? You want to save me, even now."

I grit my teeth and caught her swords against mine, pushing back to lock her hands against her breasts.

"If you don't fight me properly, I'll kill you," she warned. "And then I shall go on to kill and kill. All in the name of my Kingdom. When shall I stop? Who shall try and stop me? Your friends, no doubt. I shall have to kill them as well."

My eyes flashed, and my sword turned into an almost ethereal state, phasing through her weapons and up towards her chin. "Rargh!"

Cinder broke away, leaning back at the last second to avoid certain death. She summoned some fire, but let it go when I shifted into a Blacksmith. Instead, she lunged back in, trying to take me before I could turn back.

The transition was all but immediate now, however. It cost me a little each time, and I could feel mental fatigue building up. Worse, my chest felt like it was on fire. Right across the wound Cinder caused. It hurt less when I was in my Blacksmith form, but progressively got worse when I was out of it. If this continued for much longer, I'd be in trouble.

If I failed here, everyone would be in trouble. Cinder could expand the wall of fire outwards – or have Phoenix kill everyone in the arena. I had no idea why she hadn't used it to attack me already but could only assume doing so would cause it to lose the cage it had built. Something Cinder couldn't afford to let happen.

"Kill him!" the King of Mistral roared. "Kill him!"

With a single nod, Cinder obeyed. Her swords joined as one – becoming one far longer and larger than mine. Each slash sent a wave of fire before and after it, burning the air, and my body. Not as intense as it had been before, but simultaneous, forcing me to choose between the defence of a Blacksmith and the offence of a Swordmaster, each time I changed a drain on my stamina.

Her flaming sword nicked and cauterised my cheek, burning a scar into it. I slammed a fist into her stomach, bending her double. Cinder's free hand gripped my shoulder. Flame roared to life and tore a scream from me. My Class changed and my armour super-heated. She fell back with a hiss. Her sword rose, my Class changed once more. My eyes glowed.

"Dividing Slash!" I roared.

Crocea Mors swept up. White light poured from it as it struck the sword, shearing it in two with not a hint of resistance. Too little so, in fact. I swung too hard and over-extended, and Cinder capitulated on the weakness by turning her now broken sword into a dagger, thrusting it under my breastplate, aiming for my stomach. I was barely able to twist aside and even then, the pain of her attack searing my flesh was indescribable.

Without thinking, I drove my forehead into hers. Cinder fell back with a grunt, staggering for a single step. My shoulder caught her chest a second later and she fell back, down onto one knee. Her sword came up, re-formed and ready to parry, but I ignored her entirely. I'd already rushed past, eyes set on the real target, the corpulent man who had essentially mind-raped a woman I respected into obedience. He saw my intent a moment before I struck. His eyes widened, and his lips quivered. A scream escaped him at the last second.

And then my vision was filled with red and black.

Crocea Mors was merciless. Powered by my new Passive, she tore through flesh and bone with ease, travelling through the body and erupting out of the back, covered in gore. My hands were warm. Overly warm and slick with blood. A face was pressed close to mine, chin on my shoulder, leaning there for support. Black hair tickled my nose.

"Why…?"

"I'm sorry," Cinder whispered back. "I'm so sorry..."

"That's it!" the King said, giggling madly. "Keep him busy, Cinder. I'll finish this myself!" He rushed in with a drawn knife. It slammed down.

My hand caught it. By the blade. Blood ran across my fingers, my own and Cinder's, but my eyes fixed on the King with pure rage. A twist snapped his wrist, and I backhanded him with all my strength, sending the King hurtling back to the ground. He slumped in a cloud of dust but I didn't have the time for him. I forgot about him immediately. Cinder's body had gone slack against mine, leaning on me for support. I lowered her gently, hesitating to draw Crocea Mors from her lest it do more damage. Not that it could, I realised. There… There would be no surviving this.

"Why?" I asked again.

"B-Because I already knew." Cinder coughed. A little blood escaped the side of her mouth. "I already knew this was how it would end. If not by you, then by another. I knew there wasn't a way to save everyone. Not… Not after I failed to convince him. To convince them." Her head fell back. Or would have. I caught it with one hand on the back of her hair. "I tried so hard… to make them see… the truth. Peace. But they, the Nobles, the King, wanted… they always wanted. More land. More riches. More renown. I couldn't convince them." Her eyes clenched shut. A tear ran down one cheek. "What was I supposed to do?"

"Cinder…"

"I-In the end, I was weak. I couldn't change their minds. I couldn't defy them. I couldn't resist them. Or... perhaps I convinced myself of that. Hid away from the truth. Perhaps I could have fought harder." Cinder managed to bring a hand up. She tried to touch my cheek but lacked the strength. Instead, she threw it around my shoulders, behind my head, and drew me close to whisper into my ear. "I didn't have your strength."

Above us, Phoenix let out a long, mournful sound. The wall of fire that surrounded us fell. Like leaves from a tree in autumn, Phoenix' feathers fell too, falling like a rain of embers as it began to come apart. The whole time, it mourned. A horrible, sorrowful sound.

"I can hear Salem's voice, you know. I could summon her here now, she's telling me. Promises. Promises that a wish could change this. That it could fix this." Cinder laughed suddenly, a smile spreading across her face. "But at what cost? There is always a cost." Her eyes opened once more, meeting mine. "I failed everyone. I was supposed to rule and protect them, but I only let them be led to ruin. In this… now… I can at least make one right choice. I reject her wish. I will not make it. I will… accept this."

A tear ran down my cheek. "I didn't want this," I said. "I… I wanted to save you. I was supposed to help you as well as everyone else. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Cinder chuckled. Her smile spread, becoming more natural, more kind. "Such a naïve fool. A naïve, honourable, beautiful fool. I was not as strong as you. I could not fight my destiny. Perhaps if I had… perhaps if I'd met you sooner. If I had not lost the hope I once held…"

Her breathing slowed. With a final exhale, Cinder's eyes closed halfway. Her chest did not rise again. Energy rushed into me. I felt myself growing stronger.

I hated it.

Hated it all.

One level. Two. Three. That was all she was reduced to, numbers. No one would remember her as more. Or if they did, they would remember the one who broke the treaty. A monster to be spoken of in hushed tones.

But I knew better. I would remember. Gently, I laid her down, running my hand over her face so that her eyes would close the rest of the way. At least here, she looked at peace. All around me, the sounds of combat had returned, Phoenix now lost, the wall with it. I thought I heard someone shout my name, but I refused to listen.

Slowly, I stood.

My eyes sought out the one responsible.

"W-Wait," the King gasped, pushing himself back. He cradled his injured hand against his chest but kicked back with both feet. "I surrender! It's over."

As gently as I could, I drew Crocea Mors from Cinder's body. Her blood stained the blade. I wiped it off on my arm. I wouldn't do her the disservice of staining her blood with another's. Once done, I took a step towards the King, and then another.

"Stop!" he barked. I felt the command hit me. Wash over me. I kept moving. "Halt!" he yelled. Same effect. "Put down your weapon! Stop! STOP!"

"Charisma," I said softly, casually. "It's a funny thing. In small numbers it seems to be innocent. Convincing someone to spend a little more, to like you, to listen to your point of view. There's nothing wrong with that because the person on the other side still has the choice to say no. I thought that was alright." I shook my head and sighed. "I never realised how monstrous it really is."

Lord Roux had shown me, but even then, I had questioned it – for his Soldiers had remained loyal to Vale and fought alongside Mistral's own. He'd impressed his will on the innocent civilians, but that might have been obedience through fear. I should have known better.

"How does the Noble Caste rule when they are so much weaker than the Hero Caste?" I questioned. "I thought it might be an arrangement. Something that helped both parties. But it's different, isn't it? Oh, I'm sure some Nobles are honourable and do well. Maybe most of them. But then, there will always be those like you, won't there? Those who take it further."

His good hand lashed out when I came near. I kicked viciously, sending the dagger flying and earning a cry from him. My foot stomped down on his chest, pinning him flat and preventing him from moving.

"Convincing someone to listen to your point of view is fine. But what you did to her, and what you no doubt did to others, was not just that. You imposed your will on them. You mind-raped them."

"STOP!" he screamed.

Another wave of force hit me. I had to grit my teeth to ride past it but beat it I did. A little blood ran down my chin from where I'd bit my tongue. My teeth were bloody as I smiled. I took Crocea Mors in both hands and raised it up to eye-level, the tip pointed down towards his heart.

"Just like you're trying to do the same to me."

"Wait!" a voice behind me called.

I hesitated and turned my head, just a little. The King of Vale staggered forward, one hand gripping the wound in his stomach. How it hadn't killed him, I had no idea. No. I did. Cinder could have placed it fatally had she wished. I could only imagine she'd spared him on purpose, perhaps in the vain hope her father-in-law would accept Vale's surrender and spare him.

This was the King of Vale. My King. My liege.

Funny how I'd neither seen nor cared for him before now. He was an old and spent man, though much of that might have been to do with the situation. His beard was short-cropped and white, his face pinched with pain, even as he forced himself to stand. I'd have placed him at forty to fifty, still strong but getting on in years.

I eyed him warily. "Why should I wait? He's killed so many. He's responsible for all of this!"

"I know, young man. I know. He is responsible for this, too," he said, gesturing to his injured state. "Believe me when I say it would satisfy me to see you kill him. It would satisfy me to no end. But there are laws, and laws exist for a reason. He has surrendered."

"And that's it? He surrenders and gets to live?" I gripped Crocea Mors tighter. "I won't accept that."

"Our world is a flawed one, a flawed system, and yet it is all we have. Yes, there are those who abuse it, but there are more who do not. Who understand and accept the consequences of their position just as easily as you do." The King took another step towards me, but stopped out of reach, knowing that to try and restrain me would end poorly. "Your Strength could kill untold innocents just as easily as I might control them with my Charisma. Yet we do not. Our will, our choices are what define us. Not our abilities. We hold back because we understand that."

"Fine words and I agree with them, but that doesn't change what this bastard did! He betrayed us! He broke the treaty! He burned down our neighbouring villages. Hundreds of innocent villagers died! Perhaps thousands!"

"Just… NPC's…" the King of Mistral spat.

I brought Crocea Mors higher.

"The world needs order!" The King of Vale countered, speaking quickly. "As I said, it is not perfect, but the Grimm do not allow for a perfect solution. The people need leadership. Our systems protect us. The Caste system ensures the majority can work and live without fear. Even if it must occasionally let some suffer. I do not like it," the King said, "But the alternative is chaos. Chaos in which the Grimm thrive. You would throw Mistral into chaos were you to kill him here. Think not of your pain, or even of hers," the King said, pointing to Cinder. "Instead, think of their innocent villagers. Think of all the others here today who were – and perhaps still are – in the same situation she was. Think of what she would want."

"Is that your own Charisma you're using on me?" I had to ask.

"Only to express my point," the King said, smiling softly. "I would not impose my will on you, were I even able. You have shaken his, and I hold no doubt you would do the same to mine. If you choose to kill him, I shall personally ensure you suffer no consequences. You have earned it by saving my life. But I hope that you will consider what I say. The choice is yours."

The choice…? If I had a choice, it would have been to give Cinder a choice. She'd been robbed of that by the excuse for human excrement under my boot, quivering like a frightened child. Her choice, and that of so many others, had been stolen from them.

And yet, Cinder had accepted her death. If I killed the King of Mistral now, it might throw the Kingdom into a fight for succession, which could lead to the death of thousands. Mistral's forces were out of position to respond. Entire villages might be overrun before they could return, and even when they did, the casualties of war would leave villages like Stoneskeep with limited defence. Cinder and I had risked our lives together with Qrow to protect that little mining village.

Could I condemn it to death now, just to feed my anger?

The answer was obvious.

I slammed Crocea Mors down. Both Kings flinched, but the blade dug into the ground beside the King of Mistral's face. When I pulled it free, he fainted, slipping into unconsciousness. Good. If he'd opened his mouth again, I might have killed him for it.

"You've made the right choice, young Hero."

"I'm not a Hero," I said, stepping past my King. I allowed my Class to revert. "I'm a Blacksmith, a member of the Labour Caste. An NPC." I sneered the last part, making it clear we both knew exactly who was the one in this fight who `needed protection`.

I didn't wait to see his response. Maybe it was wrong. Maybe it was treason. I no longer cared. Walking away from Royalty, and from Cinder, I made my way back to the stands – where the fighting had all but ceased. The sudden fall of the wall and the death of Phoenix had shocked everyone into looking, and it seemed all had been watching, waiting to see whether the King of Mistral would die. Whether I would finish him then and there.

All eyes were on me. I couldn't find it in myself to care.

Bloodied, bruised, and with half my chest carved out, now replaced with metal that felt as warm as flesh, I sheathed Crocea Mors, marching up the steps. Heroes of either Kingdom parted as I approached, none stopping me.

I didn't know where I was going. Home, a part of me decided. And yet Ansel was far away, and I knew I'd never make it without someone stopping me. In the end, it was my Guild.

Without words, without the need for them, they closed around me, shielding me from view and creating a united front against all those who looked like they might approach. Ren took my arm and led me to a seat, helping me to sit down onto the carved stone. As the King of Vale announced the surrender of Mistral's forces and a cessation of conflict, I didn't celebrate. Couldn't. There was, in my mind, no reason to.

Instead, I cupped my face in my hands and wept.

/-/

Two days.

That was how long it took for Mistral's surrender to be formally acknowledged, even though the fighting had stopped at the exact moment. Mistral's surrender had technically been immediate, and the news swiftly spread. Mistral's own Heroes met their army outside the walls of Vale and announced the surrender, preventing the battle, if not the slaughter said army had caused on its approach.

It was the official records and the terms of the surrender that took forty-eight hours, after which the King of Mistral had appeared, flanked by Vale Guards and looking none too pleased with himself, and announced his formal surrender. There were still armies out there and they would need to retreat. But peace was coming. The surrender had been finalised.

Still, I couldn't help but think how many people would still be alive if the whole thing had ended in as many days. I took no solace in the way it ended, or the rumours that were being spread that one man – aka, me – had brought it about, slaying Mistral's strongest Hero in one-on-one combat. On that front, everyone remained quiet. Though I'd been seen by those within the arena on both sides, that made up less than a percentage of the population of Vale. Far less. My fame, what that it was, was still mostly toward an unknown, nigh-mythical figure.

I had a feeling that was intentional on the part of the Noble Caste. They wanted to get the story together first, or perhaps prevent me – a lowly NPC – from using the fame for anything. It wouldn't do if the little folk got ideas, after all.

The people of Vale celebrated what they saw as a bloodless victory; a reminder of how insular they were. To them, those on the outside hardly mattered. Few cared that almost every town and village in the Kingdom had suffered in some way. A parade was already being held, with parties in the streets to celebrate Vale's victory.

Victory…?

Ha.

I still felt sick.

Worse, my mood was dragging everyone else down.

"You don't have to stay here," I said to the others. We were sat in the Lodge once more, all of us hiding away from the festivities. "You can go celebrate. Don't miss out on my account. I'll be okay on my own for a couple of hours."

"You're not the only one who doesn't see any reason to celebrate," Weiss said, blowing on some hot tea. "I have just as little interest in celebration."

"This was a war." Nora added. "I'd rather cheer one not starting than one ending."

"The Treaty was broken," Blake said, leaning on the wall beside my sofa. Her tone was soft and yet her hands gripped a mug of water with too much force, cracking the pewter. "We all knew it was an ideal, more hope than substance, and yet it was the King of a Kingdom who broke it."

"Hopefully, this will serve as a message to future generations," Ren said. "A warning not to do the same."

"That relies on people learning," Weiss said.

"I can but hope they will."

That was a sentiment I could get behind, but few others. Less than three days since the war ended and everyone was already focusing on moving on, leaving me behind, it almost felt like. Cinder had been vilified by Mistral; they blamed her, saying this was a war of her orchestrating. Right then, I had considered marching to the Palace, finding the King once more, and kill him. To hell with the consequences.

Fortunately, Vale's own King refused to accept that. Along with whatever else was being demanded in reparations – much of which I cared not to learn – Mistral had to accept War Guilt for this atrocity. It was to be forever recorded in their history that the King of Mistral ordered the attack. I wasn't sure it would last, or if they wouldn't try to change it in a decade or two.

I found that I didn't care.

"People are asking about Jaune, too," Blake said. I sighed. "Apart from him saving the King, there are questions about his Class."

"Which one?" Ruby asked.

"Both."

"I'm not going to stand for that!"

"None of us will," Yang said, rubbing her sister's head. "You heard Ozpin, he's not going to let this go against Jaune – and I doubt the King will after Jaune saved his life. Enough people saw it that there would be an uproar if he tried. But this…" She gestured to my Class, currently Blacksmith once more. But they all knew I could change it at will. "This changes a lot. It changes the way the world works. People want to know more."

"Or our understanding of it, at least," Pyrrha said. "Maybe it's always been this way and we just never knew."

"It's going to have an impact on the Caste System." Ren said. "There may be a lot of people in the Labour Caste who would like to move beyond it."

Blake snorted. "No doubt why the Noble Caste are so up in arms about it. They'll want this discussed, a decision made. Maybe even regulations or laws. They'll either want him to accept life in the Labour Caste or life in the Hero Caste."

"Why not both?" Ruby asked.

"Because that breaks the Caste System," Yang pointed out. "And their little minds."

They weren't wrong. Since the war ended, I'd been told that more than one delegation had come to Beacon asking to see me. Ozpin, to my eternal gratitude, had turned each away, citing that I needed time to recover, and time to understand the changes that had come over me. He'd stonewalled the Nobles since day one, drawing them into discussions of peace agreements and treaties instead.

I'd been sequestered away in the Guild Hall ever since, though I'd been visited by several familiar faces, friends, some teachers and even Ellayne, my little apprentice, with them. I'd managed smiles and words with each, but they rang hollow and exhaustion continued to mount.

"What about you, Jaune?" Ren asked. "We all know what the Nobles want, but what do you want out of this?"

"I don't know," I said. "Peace. An end to the war."

"Those things are going to happen. I mean now. Right now. What do you want at this moment?"

Here and now? I hadn't thought about it. I did so now and came to an immediate, if unlikely, conclusion. "I want to go home."

"Forever?" Ruby asked, nervously.

"No, just…" I sighed. "I hate it here. Right now, I mean. All the questions, all the people staring, all the talk of what I should do, how I should feel or that I should have killed him. Not from you," I said, for they'd never once asked any of that – apart from the obvious curiosity over my Class. "Just… I want to get out of Vale for a bit. I want time to think, to come to terms with this. Without Nobles breathing down my neck."

The Guild exchanged long, considering looks.

In the end, it was Yang who spoke, "Alright. Let's do it."

I looked up. "What?"

"I said alright." The Brawler looked to the others, to see if there would be any arguments. "The War is over. We're not needed and Ozpin's probably sick and tired of turning Nobles away as it is. I say we make life easier for him and head on out."

"Just… walk away?" Pyrrha asked.

"I'd say it's more `taking a holiday`."

"I don't think the Nobles will like that," Ren pointed out.

"Then we make a Quest of it," Blake said, smiling as the idea came to her. "There are plenty of villages asking for help after what Mistral did. We can pick one up from Beacon and head out. The Nobles can't complain if we're doing what Heroes are supposed to do."

"Relief efforts and rebuilding," Ruby said. "Not to mention fighting off any Grimm that come because of everything. And we'd need somewhere to stay while we're not working, right? Like Jaune's home village."

"I'm in," Nora chirped.

"As am I," Pyrrha agreed. "Anything other than being trapped here waiting."

The others followed in quick succession. I was left to watch in shock, unable to find the words as my throat clogged up. My eyes burned but I wiped my sleeve across my face, hiding the tears from view.

"You guys… You don't have to come with me…"

"What if we want to?" Blake asked, her voice challenging. "You're not alone in this, Jaune. We fought together. You may have struck the final blow, but we were all a part of this."

"And anything that affects you, affects us as well," Ren said. "That's just natural. You're a part of our Guild."

"Whether you like it or not!" Nora teased.

"It's not like we're following you or anything," Ruby said. "We're just… headed in the same direction."

"The relief efforts would likely go quicker with a Blacksmith on board," Weiss said. "Velvet, why don't you come with us? A Tailor could help make blankets and clothing for those who have little else."

Velvet smiled. "I'd be happy to help."

"W-What about everything going on here?" I had to ask. "What about the King and the Nobles?"

Yang snorted. "If they want to find us they can climb off their asses and come to Ansel. We're Heroes. You're a Hero, too. It's our job to go out and help people. If they don't like it, they can re-write the Caste System."

I laughed. I couldn't help it.

That evening, an Assassin snuck into Beacon – into Ozpin's office – and stole a Quest Scroll. If Ozpin were asked later, he would claim he'd seen nothing, and that it was routine of him to pre-sign Quests. An oversight, but one he would fix in the future. Miss Goodwitch would also attest to a sudden bout of forgetfulness on exactly which students she was supposed to prevent from leaving. All very inconvenient, but not such a concern in the grand scheme of things. Heroes going out to Quest was nothing new.

Under the cover of darkness, eight horses trotted out of Vale, their riders covered in thick cowls and one mount with two on its back. I kept my head low as Weiss and Blake spoke to the gate guards, and smiled when the gates creaked open, no one the wiser.

The moment we were outside, away from the stifling celebrations, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders. Back in the saddle, back in the wild, free to do whatever we wished, regardless of words that hovered above us. Uncaring of them. I knew there would be a storm when we returned, as we'd inevitably have to, but for now, it was just us. Just the Guild once more. Together.

"Ready, oh esteemed Guild Leader?" Pyrrha teased.

I grinned back. They'd need me to show them the way, and then to introduce them to everyone. It would be hard work. Back-breaking work. And we'd probably see terrible things as we dug through the wreckage. But either way, we'd be doing something. We'd be making a difference. We'd be doing what Heroes were supposed to do. I tugged on Faith's reins, aiming her in the direction of Ansel.

"I'm ready."

Taking a deep breath, I let my worries fly into the wind. At least for now.

"Let's go."


Book 6 ends.


Yes, I haven't explained the Swordmaster yet. I know. It's something that is going to be a major part of next book, and in which things like the Caste System, the laws behind it, and the general IMPACT of Jaune discovering this will be explored – along with what people's reactions to it are. In Book 7, the concept of having two Classes will be better explained, but I didn't want to try and rush it all in at the end of this book and half-ass it.

This book was about the war ending, not on the battlefield but in Jaune calling Checkmate on the King of Mistral, and Cinder's death in the crossfire. The next will deal with things like fallout, both political and emotional, along with everything else – including Jaune's thoughts on Charisma, which I know a lot of people have been shouting about. How it can, and does, sometimes lend itself to essentially controlling the free will of people.


Next Chapter: 1st October

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