Ah, we're back again. And I'm back from my expo – what a relief! They tried to pull the same thing last year where straight after my speech they asked me if I could host the "Women's Business Awards" they had going on (not all women, of course, more like women in business in the industry for which the expo was for, etc…). I had to turn it down again. Seriously, do they not think it would be a bit risky to have a man speak at a women's awards night?
Get a successful woman in the industry to do the main speech, otherwise you're suggesting there aren't any or something. I'm not going to risk being the centre of drama by doing something like that.
Anyway, here comes Book 7 of Forged Destiny.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 7: Chapter 1
"Thank you, my lord. Thank you. A thousand blessings on you."
"I'm no lord, madam," I said, helping the frail woman up onto the back of the wagon. She clutched a baby girl to her chest who wailed incessantly despite the woman's best attempts to coo it to sleep. Both were bruised and covered in soot, hungry and exhausted with their clothing looking too big for them. That the child had survived thus far was a miracle, and likely only because it was still young enough to be breastfed.
There were many who had not been so fortunate.
Six. That was the full number of survivors from the latest village Pyrrha and I had reached. I couldn't remember its name and I supposed that didn't matter anymore. The village was no more, reduced to rubble and burned to the ground. Some structures remained standing, within which we'd found the huddled survivors.
We'd almost missed them entirely, but for Pyrrha spotting the smoke that was a little lighter in colour than the rest, indicating a recent fire and not the smouldering remains of the village itself. The people had been terrified when we approached, some going so far as to cry or beg for mercy, mistaking us for Soldiers come to finish the task and kill them. It had been painful to see.
At least now, things would be different for them. Better, I hoped.
I pulled myself up onto Faith and led her in front of the ox-drawn wagon led by one of Ansel's villagers. As I did, I leaned down to gently tap the rump of one of the oxen. "You're good to go," I called to the driver. "Don't worry. We'll be watching."
"I know, my lord," the weathered man chuckled. "This isn't my first time." He cracked the whip in the air, the sound enough to bring the oxen to move.
"I'm not a—Never mind."
It was my Class, I assumed. I'd decided to travel as a Swordmaster today, less because I felt I'd need it and more because the tag of Hero garnered immediate trust from those we found, useful to avoid arguments or mistrust from people who really couldn't afford to turn down our aid. While no one in Ansel looked down on me as a Blacksmith, knowing the truth, those survivors from the burned down villages didn't have the same experience.
"You will be safe in Ansel," I said, riding along the cart and raising my voice so the survivors could hear me. Two women, one baby and three small children. It wasn't unusual for the survivors to be thus. Children were more adept at hiding – or being hidden by their parents – and thus surviving the massacres. "We have food and water aplenty, along with shelter and tents for each of you. More permanent accommodation will be found, but for now please understand that you are safe." I nodded to a small chest at the front of the wagon. "There is food and water in there."
Their eyes lit up. I noticed the feral quality to it immediately. Again, it was not uncommon. Children were often too scared to move far from their homes or too inexperienced to hunt or forage for food themselves. Left to their own devices, even the most upstanding person could become little more than a feral scavenger.
"There is enough for each of you," I stressed, firming my voice, stopping any violence before it could happen. "Those at the front open it and share the food out. Don't gorge yourselves, however. You'll only feel sick."
The words had the desired effect and a pair of children, one around ten, the other a thirteen-year-old girl, opened the chest and brought out the carefully wrapped treats. Bread, cheese, some fruits and flagons of cool river water. Not the best of meals but filling and rich in fat and nutrients. I saw their hands shake as they forced themselves to hand it out, passing the food along. Only when it became clear there was enough for all did they relax, though even then their weakened bodies trembled.
Once the refugees were busy eating, some of them openly weeping as they did, I let Faith move over to Pyrrha's mare. The Champion had been watching in silence, content to let me handle the talking as usual.
"Six is so few," she said as I came near. "That village must have had at least two hundred inhabitants."
I wasn't sure what to say, so remained silent. Six was a disgustingly low number, but what could be expected in the aftermath of something like this? There might have been more survivors originally, but some would have died or struck out on their own. Maybe if we'd gotten here sooner, it could have been different. But that was a slippery slope to look down. There were so many villages to reach and our party was so small.
And there were other problems to deal with, too.
"Any signs of trouble?" I asked.
"None that I can see. If looters came, they've already been off with the valuables. I spotted some tracks a way back, but there's no way to tell if their looters, bandits, deserters or survivors."
War really did show the worst of people. The conflict was over now, and although I'd not been to Vale since we left, Ren and Nora had – to purchase food and supplies for Ansel's growing population. They'd come back with news that Mistral's armies had finally left Sanus, with the King of Mistral released back to Anima as well. That wasn't to say all had gone so easily, however.
There were some who had relished the bloodshed or been lost to it. Though I could never accept it, I could at least theoretically understand why that was. The same primal satisfaction I'd felt on my first kill, on surviving against someone who wanted to end my life, combined with the heady feeling of earning levels and growing in strength. For Heroes, that could continue in peacetime by hunting Grimm, but for the Soldier Caste such wasn't the case, or at least not at a rate desired by those lost to the violence.
They wanted the constant rush of adrenaline, or maybe they wanted to keep growing more and more powerful, or perhaps they simply felt they'd become too powerful to go back to being a guard at some backwater village. Whatever the case, not all of Mistral's soldiers had left with the army. Some had struck out on their own. The ethical became mercenaries or sellswords, looking to ply their craft and sate their appetites. Ansel had picked up a few to bolster its militia, though they had to swear off their ties to Mistral.
That number was small, however. The majority had seen an opportunity in Vale's own forces being stretched thin and depleted after the war. Banditry had become rife, both Vale-born bandits and deserters from Mistral.
The bandits weren't such a problem in these parts; bandits didn't make much money hanging around burned-down villages, but we had a few and looters were more common. We'd made it a habit to split up and work shifts hunting them in the surrounding region, usually in groups of two or three. It spread the Guild thin, but ensured the surrounding area was safe, and that any wandering refugees would have an easier time reaching Ansel.
Of course, there was also the increased Grimm presence to worry about. The war left plenty of negativity, after all.
"Sign ahead," Pyrrha said. My head jerked up, but I realised she didn't mean signs of danger, but a sign. A literal post with some wooden slats and directions etched on it, sat at a crossroads in the dirt-worn road we were travelling.
"I'll deal with it. You lead the wagon on; we're only a few minutes out from Ansel now. I'll catch up."
Pyrrha nodded. "I'll have them organised and arranged by the time you arrive."
The wagon rumbled on with the occupants watching me curiously as I dismounted. Rather than pay them attention, I rummaged in the saddlebags and brought out a flat plank of wood and a hammer. It was but the work of a moment to tear down all the signs pointing to the other villages, leaving only Ansel's remaining. Beneath it, on the pole itself, I hammered the sign which contained a message in Weiss' neat and elegant writing.
Ansel stands
Food, water and shelter available
Refugees welcome
Taking a moment to inspect it, I let out a long breath. News of Ansel had spread since our return. Not because of us, per se, though our presence had helped make the village far safer than it had been before. But as the only village to have not only withstood but beaten back the Soldiers sent to raze it, Ansel had garnered a well-deserved reputation as a haven. That had prompted many refugees to come for aid.
Moving back to Faith and storing away the hammer, I strapped up the bags and made to mount, only to pause as a sound caught my ear. The rustling of the tall grass on the east side of the path. My hand rose to Crocea Mors sheathed on the side of Faith's saddle, but I let go and reached for the knife at my belt instead. Rather than draw it, I slid it around, so that the knife was hidden, one hand behind my back as I turned to the grass.
"Who's there?" I called. "Show yourself."
There was silence for a moment, but I waited it out. Eventually, after a few long seconds, the grass parted and a small figure stumbled forth. The girl – for it was a young girl – couldn't have been older than fourteen. Her face was gaunt and smeared with dried and crusted blood that looked to have come from a jagged cut above her eye. She wore a green linen dress smudged brown and torn in places. Her eyes told me she was desperate. Desperate enough, even, to approach an armed and unknown man on a lonely road. When you had nothing left to live for, even being abducted and abused by bandits probably felt safer than dying alone. They might at least feed her.
Grateful for my instinct not to draw a weapon and frighten her, I released the knife and knelt a little, showing both hands. "Hey there. It's okay. I'm a Hero from Ansel."
"A-Ansel…?" the girl croaked. Rather than let her continue I pulled a water flask off my belt and gently tossed it to her in an under armed throw. She caught it against her chest, stared at me in shock for a second, and then lost control, tore out the cork and guzzled at it.
"Careful. Take smaller sips." The girl did as advised, and I smiled at her in what I hoped was a calming manner. "Are you alone out here? If you have any friends or family I can bring them all to Ansel with me."
"N-No one," she whispered. Despite the water her voice was still hoarse. "Ansel," she repeated. "I… I heard…"
"It still stands, yes." I nodded to the post behind me and then held a hand out to her. "Come on. I'll take you there. We have food and supplies aplenty and we're accepting all refugees, no matter the circumstances."
In any other time, I had a feeling she would have refused on principle, as any sane person would when confronted with someone like me. This wasn't a time for such, however, and she was too weak to argue. The girl nodded and stepped forward, wary but resigned to be hurt if I wanted her to be. Softly, I placed a hand on her back and led her to Faith's side, lifting her up onto the mare with both hands under her arms and then climbing up behind her, using my hands on the reins to keep her from falling.
"Here," I said, reaching into a saddlebag before we moved. The girl's eyes lit up as she accepted the small wrapped package and opened it. Sliced fruit on one side, dried, and some strips of cooked pork on the other. "My rations. I don't need them; we'll be in Ansel in a few minutes. Dig in." She did so, and I nudged Faith on while she was distracted.
Seven survivors. Still so few, but one better. It made all the difference.
/-/
Weiss sat behind a wooden desk that had been set up near the front gates of Ansel with a member of the local militia on either side of her. She looked overworked, her Mage's robes wrinkled in a way the normally proud girl wouldn't typically allow. Despite that, she managed a smile for girl I led forward, one hand still on her back as someone came to take Faith away to pasture.
"Another refugee?" Weiss asked. She smiled for the young girl's benefit. "Welcome to Ansel. We've got food and room aplenty, but I'll have to take some details for the sake of organising things. And to see if there are any family here looking for you. If you're missing anyone, we can try and help you find them."
"No one," the girl whispered. "There's no one left."
Weiss' smile fell. "I'm sorry to hear that. But we'll see you safe. Don't worry." Her eyes met mine. "Yang is looking for you, by the way."
"Is something wrong?"
"No. I think it's about the walls. She's over on the south-side of the village now." Standing, Weiss came around the table to take the girl away from me and let her sit in the seat she'd just vacated. "I'll see her settled, Jaune. Pyrrha already came back and I just finished finding room for them. One of the children even has grandparents here who were happy to hear they survived. They agreed to take them in."
"That's great. You'll be safe here," I said to the girl. "And you can trust Weiss. She'll look after you."
The girl nodded. For the first time, she relaxed, practically sagging into the seat. "Thank you…"
As I made my way around the walls toward the southern side and Yang, I had a moment to look out over Ansel and get a feel for how it had changed. Where once it had been a small and mostly unremarkable village, it had now become something which was approaching a town, albeit one made mostly of wooden buildings and tents. The open pastures and meadows within the village's walls were filled with white tents made of linen, some from the village and others purchased from traders, Vale or even taken from fallen villages. It wasn't looting if we intended to use the supplies we found to help the survivors, or so we decided.
The refugee quarter – not so much a quarter but what we'd taken to call the large collection of tents that housed easily a hundred people – took up a good part of the village. Interspersed among the tents were campfires with pots boiling, along with troughs for washing surrounded by privacy screens. The refugees weren't kept there and were in fact encouraged to roam the village and get to know the locals. The last thing we wanted was to create an "us and them" mentality.
In time, the refugees would be housed. In the early days we'd asked villagers to put people up in their homes, but that quickly proved a temporary solution at best. The children didn't take up much room, but there were just so many of them. People were hard at work building more long-term housing for them, but houses couldn't be erected in a day, even if they were relatively simplistic dwellings we were going for. The whole village was chipping in, with people cutting trees in the neighbouring forest, always guarded by some militia along with at least two members of the Guild. From memory, it would be Ruby and Ren out there today.
As I crossed onto the west-facing wall, I passed an open expanse down below where Nora was helping to train volunteers. We still had precious few Soldier Caste members, only four remaining of Ansel's original militia and six mercenaries who had agreed to join for a stipend. No refugees from the Solider caste had come, which I supposed made sense. They'd given their lives to try and defend their villages and people.
I whispered a prayer for their souls as I watched Nora correct the footwork of a young Farmer, likely a refugee. With an influx of new villagers, we didn't have the jobs for all of them, but stories of how Ansel had risen above their Class to fight off the Mistral army had spread. There were many who wanted to defend their new home, or just to learn to fight so that they wouldn't lose Ansel like they had their original. Supplies of weapons and armour, paradoxically, were not nearly as low as timber. We had the fallen loot from the Mistral soldiers, along with those of whatever bandits and looters we caught in the surrounding area. There was a mish-mash of spears, swords, staves and other weapons down there, but Nora was teaching as best she could. Pyrrha usually chipped in and would probably take over once Nora's shift ended.
It was hard to say if those down there would ever reach the Level of Soldiers, but they would at least be better prepared to defend themselves if anything like this happened again. Or if Grimm or bandits attacked. It was better than nothing and might save lives. At the very least, they could be used to defend the parties who went out to forage, fish or gather wood. Ansel needed all the supplies it could get and the lien we'd provided wasn't going to last forever.
Perhaps the last change of the village was its new banner – a red flag emblazoned with a golden sword etched into a circle. It hadn't been a conscious decision to change the heraldry of Ansel, but rather a necessity in order to avoid confusion with deserters. Early on, we'd left things as normal, but there had been a fight when Blake and Pyrrha hadn't realised some deserters from Vale's army were bandits until the last second. Since then, everyone went out with a red flag to signal themselves as allies.
Yang was waiting for me on the south wall as expected, her hands crossed atop the wooden palisade and the Brawler herself looking out over the meadow to the south. She perked up upon hearing my footsteps and turned with a tired smile on her face.
"About time you got back."
"Sorry. Found another survivor and had to bring her back."
"Yeah? Pyrrha will be happy to hear that. Any family?"
"No. She's an orphan now." I sighed, and Yang cursed quietly. "Weiss said you wanted to see me. Is there a problem with the construction efforts?"
"Not now, but I've a feeling there will be soon. There's just not enough room in Ansel for all the things we're looking for. Houses alone are going to clog it up real fast, and that's going to be a fire risk, not to mention sickness." And there was a risk of tempers fraying, she didn't add. People needed room to stretch their limbs.
"Wouldn't communal living fix that?" I asked. "Maybe a hall to bed fifty at a time."
Yang shook her head. "That's a temporary solution and you know it. What happens when they have families of their own or want to move out? Can't really look at this as stop-gap solutions, Jaune. Whatever we do here has to last for the next couple of hundred years. Ansel has almost doubled in population. That's going to have a knock-on effect, especially on birth rates." Yang spread her arms. "The village just isn't big enough."
"Then what do you suggest? We try and ship some of the refugees to Vale? I doubt the city will be any more willing to accept them, poor and destitute as they are."
"I'm saying we need to think bigger. The village needs to extend. Maybe into this meadow." She nodded to the south, the reason for her being here in the first place. "The ground is solid enough; I had a couple of builders check it earlier and they said it would work."
"I'm not sure I like the idea of refugees being forced to live outside the walls…"
"Then we extend the walls. Knock these down if you want or add a gate and have two sets of walls. Whichever is easier."
Extend the walls? More like build new walls, I guessed. I wasn't a builder, and neither was Yang, both of us just being the brawn to help in the effort, making tasks easier by our high Strength. Ansel's size had never been limited by a lack of resources or suitable ground, so much as the walls themselves. The original settlers however many hundreds of years ago hadn't needed to make them too big, and in time over-population had sorted itself out, people moving away, either to the city or any neighbouring towns and villages.
That wouldn't work now, of course. Ansel was the only place around still standing and if the refugees continued to come, things would only become more and more cramped. Yang was right. We were one outbreak of sickness away from a full-blown epidemic.
"I've spoken to a few of the craftsmen and they think it can be done," Yang said. "Won't be easy, but we can make a smaller wall for now and build it up later. We won't move anyone in here initially, but we'd have room for more dwellings, maybe even other things that are bound to crop up now that the village is so packed with people. A new tavern, market or such. Maybe even a bigger garrison. There are a lot of people looking to join the militia and their quarters are really only fit for ten people max."
"I guess so. We can't keep accepting people with what little we have left…" And the last thing any of us wanted was to have to turn people away. "Well, if you think it's best then go for it. You know you don't have to ask me for permission on stuff like this, right?"
"Eh. This is your village."
"And everyone else's here. I don't own the place."
"I know that." Yang laughed and punched my arm gently. Or gently for us, anyway. A normal villager would have been sent sprawling. "But the people here remember that you saved them. Your word carries a lot of weight ours doesn't. Easiest way to get the people on board is to say you okayed the expansion." Yang strode off with a grin. "I'll go spread the good news. We'll start tomorrow."
"Alright." I waved her off and stood on the parapet alone, lost in thought for a moment. There was little arguing with her point on the people here trusting me more than them. Our return to Ansel hadn't exactly been guaranteed, but the people had been happy to see me – and thrilled at the news that the war was now over. There'd been celebrations all night and while the Guild was welcomed with open arms, it was perhaps natural that my word carried more weight as a local. There hadn't been any problems, though, which was a relief.
Come the morning after the party, moods settled, and the village became more sombre. That was because the morning heralded the first refugees, broken, hungry and fleeing the destruction of their own homes. It struck a sudden realisation into everyone, me included. While we celebrated, others had no such reason to do the same.
Relief efforts had begun almost immediately. Any thought of Ansel being a holiday from the trials at Beacon had been quickly abolished. Thankfully, everyone in the Guild was only too happy to help. Velvet had taken to weaving clothing, bandages and even tents for the refugees, as well as lending her experience as Seneschal to Weiss in organising people's living and the allocation of supplies.
Ruby and Nora made excellent hunters of game, and guards for teams of hunters and foragers from the village, while Yang helped with whatever was needed and construction. Blake scouted for bandits and other refugees either alone or with Ren, while Pyrrha and I visited each village, took care of odd tasks and guarded parties of lumberjacks, hunters or fishermen as needed. Everyone took shifts, changing tasks as required, working in between. Some of those tasks had been delegated to the burgeoning militia now that they could be trusted to hold their own. The safer tasks, of course. The lookouts in the central tower of Ansel could warn of Grimm approaching in time for fishermen and farmers to reach the village's walls, which freed up some room for us to take on other tasks.
It was hard work. Back-breaking in some cases, but everyone in Ansel chipped in. Dad made weaponry, armour and tools. Mom headed the merchant caravans to Vale to barter for supplies, guarded by someone from the Guild on the journey. I'd seen some of my sisters learning to weave from Velvet, and though they lacked the same Skills her Class afforded her, their efforts still helped produce bandages and cloth that kept people warm through the night.
Anyone old or strong enough to swing an axe was inevitably sent out to help chop trees, while those weaker sheared off branches or helped collect wood. It was a communal effort, but Ansel was surviving. More than that, it was helping others less fortunate do so.
Still, with all of that going on it didn't give me much time to look into my own circumstances. I'd done a little sparring with Pyrrha to try and figure out how my Class change worked, but so far, the information was limited. I could change at will, but constant switching back and forth would push me into a migraine which eventually got bac enough to cut me off entirely. I felt I probably could switch even after that, but sooner or later it would knock me out, if an enemy didn't do it first.
On the other hand, while I could stay in Swordmaster form for some time, sooner or later I'd feel the urge to revert, if it didn't happen on its own. I noticed that even now my Class had turned back to Blacksmith at some point without me realising it at all. I felt more comfortable as a Blacksmith, though as Pyrrha said, that might just be because I was used to it after living as one for eighteen years. Nineteen soon, I realised. Time was flying.
When I was in Swordmaster form, things changed. My Stats were actually the same, which helped in me not losing balance suddenly, but I knew from the levels I'd gained both in forging Watts' sword into my body and slaying Cinder, that my parameters for Stat growth had altered. I didn't have anything specific to work off, the Atlas scale being – as Oobleck had once said – a mere theory, and the rankings being the work of research into averages, but even so I knew my Dexterity was now better than the D it had been before. I'd gained too much Dex for it to be anything but.
It didn't feel like any of my parameters had fallen – Strength and Res were still higher than any other – but if I had to make a guess, I'd say my Dex had risen to a C or B, and my Agi to a B. If my Con, Int or Wis had increased, I'd not yet noticed.
The bigger change were the Skills. And the Passive, of course. As a Swordmaster, I had access to Skills I'd never had before – but in turn, I lost my Blacksmith Skills. It was a trade-off, nothing more. No compromises, which nixed Pyrrha's initial idea that I'd somehow become both a Blacksmith and a Swordmaster.
I was one or the other. My choice which, but never both.
A bell tolling disrupted my thoughts. My eyes snapped to the watch tower immediately, and my hand to Crocea Mors, which I'd strapped to my waist once more. One of the militia, or rather a local Miner who had joined the militia after some training from Pyrrha and Nora, was ringing the bell and pointing off towards the east. Already, those outside the walls were streaming back inside, while yet more hurried to man them and refugees whispered and huddled nervously, afraid that their homes might be taken from them again, despite the war being over.
Hurrying along the wall towards the east-facing side, I met up with Ren en route. The Monk was tired, and his face was smudged with dirt. I had no idea what his jobs for the day had been, but he nodded to me anyway and we hurried on, eventually reaching the wall. It was filled with people, militia and otherwise, though Anders strode among them and bade those who had no purpose being there to make room. The villagers gave way for Ren and I easily, opening a path to Pyrrha, who stood beside Anders looking out towards the east.
"My lord," Anders greeted as I approached.
"I'm not a lord, Anders," I said, sighing, "And I still remember you giving me a stern talking to when I tried practising with one of your swords as a child."
"And I remember you saving my life not three weeks earlier," Anders countered. He nodded respectfully to Ren and then turned back to look eastward. "The watch spotted a cloud of dust approaching. The size of it suggests a large party, more than ten at any rate."
"Grimm?"
"Hard to say, though I doubt it. I'd be more worried about bandits."
"You needn't be," Pyrrha said firmly, hand on the hilt of her sword. "The walls will hold them off long enough, and I doubt they will be able to get past us."
"Perhaps not, Champion, but Ansel can ill afford any more damage. It only takes a stray torch to cause a fire that might spread out of control."
As Anders spoke, the others had begun to arrive, returning from their myriad tasks. Ruby reached us first, nodding once to me before rushing to the wall and peering out over it. Nora and Weiss came next, the Mage looking out of sorts but still ready to cast if needs be. Nora's energy was predictably boundless. Weiss looked tired even standing next to the heavy war hammer Nora propped on her shoulder, butt against the ground. Yang was already there, while Velvet had nothing to offer and stayed below. The only one missing was…
"Here comes your scout, my lord," Anders said.
"I'm not a lord, and Blake isn't a scout. Let alone mine." Even so, and knowing there would be no convincing him otherwise, I watched as Blake appeared on the back of her black mount, a gelding with little in the way of tack or gear but for his saddle, stirrups and reins. Blake brought the mount to a halt in front of the wall, the horse nickering nervously as it paced at the ground.
The Assassin herself sat atop it almost regally, her hood pulled back to reveal her long, raven hair. Blake was less filthy than any of us, but her task – for all its lack of heavy lifting – was no less dangerous. She was the first line of defence and warning for any attack, Grimm or otherwise. The strongest, fastest and most likely to be able to escape if things went poorly.
She was also my ex, something neither of us had commented on since leaving Beacon. No time had ever felt right, which had upset me a little. Still, now wasn't the time for it.
"Did you see who it is?" I called down to Blake, all the while everyone else on the walls remained silent, listening intently. "How many are there?"
"Forty or fifty," she called back. "Well armed, mounted and headed directly here." Nervous whispers spread, the words being passed down from the walls to those in the village proper. I grit my teeth as the tension spread. So many? We'd never faced bandits in such numbers. Blake leaned down and tapped her feet against her mount's flank, guiding him around the walls to the north entrance, where she would be able to slip in to safety.
"We should defend the walls," Anders said immediately. "Hold them here where their mounts will make for no advantage. Once everyone is back inside, I say we close the gates and prepare for what may come."
"There are eight Heroes here," Weiss said. "That makes for five enemies apiece. It's a fight we can handle, so long as the militia here buy us time to deal with each of them individually. The odds aren't insurmountable."
"I'd say they're in our favour," Pyrrha said. "With Ansel's organised militia numbering fifty itself, we should be fine."
"I'm talking about a battle to limit casualties. They're trained but no Soldiers. An even fight is the last thing they need." The Mage shook her head and sighed. "Never mind. We'll do what we must. I may be able to whip something up to even the odds."
That we would. I looked to the other members of the Guild, who each nodded back. All except for Blake, who I knew would agree if she were here. Even though Ansel had stood against Mistral before, that had been a desperate do or die situation. This might be the same, but training or not, the people were nervous. Frightened.
"Get everyone who doesn't need to be here off the walls," I instructed Anders, before turning to face those listening. I didn't want to speak, but as Yang had said, everyone here trusted me more than the others. I raised my voice. "Ansel fought off numbers comparable to this with sheer determination and farm implements. Now better armed, armoured and trained, not to mention with eight Heroes of Vale standing with you, victory here is all but guaranteed."
It wasn't, of course, but I raised a fist and roared anyway, swiftly echoed by Yang, Nora, Ruby and then the crowd itself. Even if the odds were in our favour, it was no guarantee when we didn't even know who was on the way. But the important thing was that we look confident, if only to avoid a panic.
"People of Ansel, refugees included, return to your dwellings and leave the defence of the village to us. Any who have been trained and cleared to fight are to collect their equipment and make their way back to us. Those assigned to the north, south or west walls are to stay there and raise the alarm in case the enemy try to encircle the village." I thumped my hand against my breastplate, making a loud noise. "Ansel will not fall here. Ansel will stand!"
"Ansel!" some of the villagers cried.
"Arc!" others cheered. "For Jaune! Arc for Ansel!"
Not what I'd hoped to hear and enough to earn a snort from Yang, but I shook my head regardless and turned to face the approaching column, the very act of standing and facing the enemy enough to jolt the people into action. As preparations for the defence began, Pyrrha stepped up beside me and offered a little smile.
"You're getting remarkably good at that. Leading, I mean."
"If you start with the `lord` stuff as well, I'll push you off this wall myself."
Pyrrha took a step back. It was all the warning I needed, and I wasn't even surprised when she fell into a deep curtsey. "As my lord commands."
"Ugh. I should have stayed a Blacksmith…"
/-/
As the large group approached, small details could be made out. Worryingly, they were all heavily armed and armoured, and not at all with the ragged remains one would expect from bandits and looters. This was high-tier equipment, and the way the column moved, with five figures at the front and many more arranged behind, screamed of intense training and discipline.
The war was over, so they couldn't be from Mistral. More than that, they didn't fly the flag of Mistral. Instead, they came with a range of different flags in numerous colours. More pennants, really. It didn't help much and the tension I'd sought to control started to return, spears rattling as they were moved and the occasional cough of someone on the wall enough to make those nearby flinch.
Only the Guild remained strong, bastions of calm among the storm. But there were so few of us that we couldn't be everywhere, and with how well-equipped some of these people were, I was beginning to doubt Pyrrha's thoughts of an easy battle.
The column halted a few hundred metres from the village's walls. The five at the front detached and approached at a lazy pace, the one in the centre standing out a little more by virtue of a rich red cloak that fluttered behind him. Or I assumed it was a him. It was hard to tell with the armour he, or she, wore. It looked like they wanted to speak first, so I stood up atop the wall, balancing precariously but grateful for Yang and Pyrrha, who took a foot each to steady me.
As they came close, they stopped within a comfortable distance. Enough to speak if we shouted, but also enough room for them to react and bolt if anyone tried to fire an arrow. Individual names and Classes could not be made out, but their arms and armour told me they were Soldiers or Heroes.
"Welcome to Ansel," I shouted, one hand on the hilt of my weapon, the other on my hip. "What brings you to our fine village on this day? I doubt you've come here as refugees if you bring such arms and armour with you."
"You dare ask us that!?" the man – obvious from the voice – on the far left shouted. "Do not dare to stand high when-"
The one left of centre interrupted, "Silence! Do not speak unless instructed or addressed!"
"B-But-"
"No buts," the woman, again from the voice, snapped. "Don't shame yourself any further." She then turned on her steed to the one in the centre, on her right, and bowed from the saddle, whispering something we couldn't hear.
"I apologise for any misunderstandings," I called out. Rude or not, I didn't want to start anything. "Please accept my apologies, but the last party of your size to approach tried to burn Ansel to the ground. You'll have to forgive us if we're wary."
"I will forgive you," the one in the centre spoke, and his voice carried. Remarkably well, in fact. "And an apology is unneeded where no offence is taken. Similarly, forgive the entourage I have brought with me, but trust that they are here not to harm you, but rather to protect me." The man chuckled and reached up for his helmet. "Fifty is but the smallest number I could bring." The helmet came free, revealing a face haggard with age but smiling nonetheless. A short-cropped beard and blonde hair turned grey with age. Those on the wall gasped at the sight of him, the Guild among them.
The King had come to Ansel.
A recap of events, introduction to this book and the rebuilding efforts of Ansel, which the Guild have essentially been leading. While I've given a few more hints re Jaune's Class changes, it's not fully investigated yet because that's going to be the crux of some chapters ahead, and Jaune is currently trying to balance figuring it out with helping the village.
And now the King has come to Ansel. Since when does a King call on a Blacksmith? We shall have to see.
Next Chapter: 8th October
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
