A small note here, as I can't really explain this IN the story as Jaune would intrinsically know it, but for the one or two confused a "Royal Court" is not a tribunal or judiciary thing. It's a medieval term for the court in which the Royal lives with his Courtiers. It's basically the seat of power, and more like a Government building than anything. But THE Government building. The central power.
Jaune has been invited to come to the Royal Court – i.e. to spend time with the movers and shakers of the Kingdom. He's not being tried for a crime or anything. Just some minor confusion, but I can't really explain this well in-universe, as it would be a term Jaune (and most other people) would know, and as such it might be OoC for him to think "Gasp, I'm being tried!?" and then have Ruby explain, "Oh no, silly, Royal Court means… etc…"
So, just thought to clear it up here.
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 7: Chapter 3
Vale was… the same as ever, really. I'd expected more. Either people waiting and watching, clear signs of celebration from the end of the war, or perhaps even the civil unrest the King had mentioned. None of that was immediately obvious. The Soldiers on the gate noted our approach and the gates were opened for us, while a few people nearby paid attention, but only out of curiosity. When they saw the King, some bowed, others nodded, and a few whispered to one another. The King didn't seem overly bothered.
I was more surprised that I attracted some attention. I was in the middle of the procession, surrounded by the Guild, with them surrounded by Soldiers and Heroes that made up the procession of the King. And yet despite that, some people pointed to me. What were they saying? Did they think I was here as a prisoner? Had they seen my fight with Cinder in the arena? Or were they just asking who the hell I was and why I necessitated such an escort?
One thing was for sure, the news of our arrival spread. By the time we were halfway down the main street and moving towards the Royal Palace, the crowds had picked up. There were more now, some who waved and shouted out praise – either to the King specifically, or the Kingdom in general. And some who simply stood and watched. I had to imagine the King's popularity had been boosted after the war. Whether or not he'd been responsible for it, the people had seen the King of Mistral being forced to surrender, admit guilt and agree to pay sanctions and sign numerous trade deals in favour of Vale, all with King Galan stood imposingly beside him.
That kind of thing was sure to win people over, even if I was sure they'd have just as rather had the King of Mistral walked to the block and executed.
But then, things were no different now. The King of Mistral was dead, removed by his own Nobles and his heir, who was probably in the midst of his coronation right now. At the end of the day, the man was dead – and he was dead without Vale inviting the wrath of the more religious side of Mistral's populace.
"He's making a show of this," Yang said, sat atop her gelding. The Brawler's face was fixed into a small smile, probably for the benefit of those watching.
"What do you mean?"
"The King is making sure he's seen. He's reminding the people he's here, and probably trying to show that you're alongside him."
"Yang is correct," Weiss said. "By showing you with him in this manner, not as a prisoner but willingly within his party, suggests a certain level of co-operation. He's trying to show those working against him that you're not the route to an insurrection. You should smile," she added, shooting a glance his way. "Smile to make it clear you're not being forced here."
"But I am."
"You don't want them to know that. Not unless you want them to rally around you."
If they did, I'd be in trouble. As would other people. Though I didn't like it, I forced as friendly a smile as I could onto my face. I doubt anyone in the Guild was fooled by it, but then these people didn't know me nearly so well. I caught some people waving my way and raised my hand in return.
Ahead of us, Saren glanced back, smiled once and nodded. That was confirmation of Weiss' theory if nothing else. The route we'd taken, the fact I wasn't given a cowl to hide my face, all of it was intentional on their part.
I felt like a prize cow being paraded before the village.
Luckily, we reached the inner walls around the Royal Palace soon enough. The walls were shorter than Vale's main ones; still defensible but intended more for show and to keep the public out than any invaders. The walls were decorated with carvings, Vale's emblem and had banners rolled down on either side of the main gate. The two guards on either side were royally dressed in bright red and white trousers, silvery breastplates and two, long halberds. They parted in unison, movements in perfect synchronisation, slapping their fists into their armour.
The Royal Palace itself was more a keep, although it had been extended from what I imagined was once a perfectly square and squat stone structure. It now had wooden and slate halls branching off the left and right forming wings, with a large courtyard in the centre with a fountain, a wooden stable to the left, some storerooms and a stone barracks. Everything that might have been needed if one were to imagine this as an incredibly small fortification. Back in the day, it probably had been. I could imagine Vale – much smaller, and hundreds of years ago – being a settlement without an outer wall at all, or maybe one made of wood. In times when the Grimm might attack, the people would have retreated into the inner keep here, abandoning their homes.
Things were different now, and a space that was once designed for defence had now become something of a more administrative nature. A few brightly-coloured teens came up, bowed, and collected the King's reins. More came for the rest of us, the Soldiers dismounting. I and the Guild followed their lead, and although Faith glowered at me for it, I handed over her reins to a Stable boy.
The King spoke to one of the lead Soldiers, who I expected was in command. The woman nodded and turned. "Everyone, well done on the patrol. You're all dismissed. Take the remainder of the day off, and report to your usual assignments tomorrow."
The Soldiers saluted. They didn't make much noise, likely not willing to in front of the King, but as they put some distance between them I caught conversations starting up. Some made their way to the barracks inside the keep's walls, while others went outside, likely to their own homes or barracks stationed elsewhere. Soon, it was just us, the King, Saren and the Commander herself.
"You will follow the King and ourselves," she said to us. Her voice made it clear she expected to be obeyed. "Do not speak unless spoken to and do not stray. You will have time aplenty to recover from the journey once formalities are out of the way. Walk no more than two abreast, make no sudden moves and remember that your being allowed to keep your weapons is a privilege and a sign of trust. Do not squander it." The woman's eyes affixed on Blake for a long moment at that.
Blake nodded. How she managed to do so without looking offended, I didn't know.
The King waited for us to be done and then began to walk toward the Keep. Saren stood behind and to his left, with the Commander on the right. I hurried to follow, keeping at least a few metres between us, with the others behind. The main gates to the keep were opened by two guards, who stood at attention as we passed through.
Despite the cold stone exterior, the inside of the keep was warm and homely, the stone walls covered in tapestries and paintings, the floor wooden with thick carpets and animal-skin rugs thrown across it. Torches flickered on the walls and gold and silver ornaments hung occasionally from the ceiling, holding yet more. It was light and airy, though the square construction and low ceiling made it clear defence had been its primary design.
Two corridors ran off left and right, no doubt to the wings that had been a later addition, while further on, another split showed a staircase – again on the left and right – leading up to the floors above. The King ignored both and headed straight, towards the large and ornate wooden doors on the opposite side of the entrance hall. They were wide open, revealing a large hall beyond which, even from a distance, was clearly filled with people.
Nervous, I swallowed. No doubt these were the King's courtiers, the Noble Caste, along with his inner circle, council or whatever he had that organised and ran the Kingdom. These were the people I would have to impress, and the people who wanted so desperately to ascertain who I was, what I was, and how I fit into the Caste System.
Where the main hall had been simple, what I assumed was the `Grand Hall` was not. Large, spiralling pillars reached up to a ceiling far higher than the last, with a balcony on a second floor running around an open floor. Doors ran off the left and right, to servant's quarters, kitchens or other places, but the main focus was toward the back wall, where three thrones stood atop a raised platform.
Two of the thrones were tall, imposing and pushed toward the front, clearly for the King and Queen. There was a third, however, smaller, to the side and also a step down on the dais. Another man sat in that, though he rose when the King entered the hall. The man was burly and wore a thick, black beard and hair the same colour. He stood on the lower step and watched as the King approached, while the Nobles – easily a hundred or more of them – stood on either side of the central carpet, red with the emblem of Vale tooled on it in gold, that led toward the throne.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as we walked down that carpet, following the King and his entourage. The Nobles were watching us. Oh, they pretended to watch the King, but when they probably saw him every day, he probably lost a little of his lustre. It was us – or me – they were interested in.
I saw so many Classes I knew little of. Scribe, Magistrate, Reeve, Scholar, Clerk, Coroner, Bailiff, Chamberlain, Cofferer, Justice. The list went on. Many wore robes of silken cloth in bright colours with cloaks or capes. Some, however, wore a combination of both silk and armour, even if it would be just a breastplate, a leather vest or something in between.
Their reactions to us, or me, were many. Some watched curiously, others whispered and to my surprise it was only a few who turned their noses up. Most looked curious and, if I dared to hope, content to hear me out and make up their minds later. Either that, or they were better at hiding their thoughts than I was at discerning them. An entirely possible conclusion.
When the King approached the main dais, he slowed. The man upon it stepped down. He held a staff in one hand, though the sheer size and muscles he had suggested he was no spell-caster. He stamped his stave down on the floor, bowed his head, and then fell to one knee. The Class above his head read Steward, his name, Hazel.
"Our King has returned," he said, loudly.
"Long may he reign!" the crowd intoned as one. It made me jump, and then wonder if I shouldn't have joined in. None of the others had though, and no one gave us any evil looks for it. Rather than question, I stayed silent.
"Any developments in my absence, Lord Steward?"
"None, my liege. The Kingdom is as you left it."
"Then you have done well. Rise." As he did, the King turned to us once more. Though he spoke to us, it was nothing like his conversation with me back in Ansel. That had been personal, as one human being to another, while this felt more like he was talking over our heads, or to us as a group. "This is my Steward, my Seneschal, and my most trusted right hand, Hazel Rainart. He handles the day to day running of the Palace and, in times of my absence, the Kingdom."
"It is an honour to meet you all," Hazel Rainart said. His face was bereft of any expression, almost too calm. I noticed his eyes land on me, however. To my surprise, he sent me a small nod.
"A pleasure," I returned, along with some greetings from the others. We all bowed.
"Today is not the day for meetings and discussions, no matter how important," the King said. "Hazel will see you to some accommodation and refreshments. He will also answer any questions you have." To the crowd at large, he said, "Tomorrow, we shall hold court. Until then, fare you all well."
With that, the King turned and sat in his throne – almost becoming like a statue. The rest of the Nobles continued about their business, some chatting, others leaving and more watching us still. I had no idea what to do and was grateful for Hazel coming forward.
"Follow me."
/-/
Hazel, I quickly realised, was a man of few words. If that wasn't clear from his general expression, then the silence with which he led us through the Keep proved it. There was no tour, no explanation, just the occasional comment of `do not go here` or an answer of `your rooms` when questioned on where we were headed.
"You will all stay on this floor, in this wing," he said eventually, bringing us to a halt. We were on the second floor of one of the wings, possibly the east one. The corridor looked like so many others, with doors lining the walls. "The King's generosity is to Jaune Arc only, but he will provide a room for the rest of you tonight. Tomorrow, you return to Beacon."
"What?"
"You can't."
"We have to stay."
"Do not question the King's kindness," Hazel interrupted. His voice was stern, his eyes even more so. "Rooms are for those who travel and have none. You all live but ten minutes from here. Were it not because he was needed, he would also be expected to stay at Beacon." He nodded to me. "But it would be foolish to make him walk back and forth."
Ruby squirmed on the spot, "But-"
"No, Ruby."
"Weiss?"
"We can't really complain. Not without causing a scene. As he says, we already live at Beacon. Demanding room and board makes us look spoiled, doing so from the King doubly so. We don't really have a choice here."
"So, we're expected to just leave Jaune here?" Pyrrha asked of Hazel.
"No. You may come and attend court, spend time or visit at your will. So long as you observe guest rights and cause no problems."
"We just can't stay here."
Hazel crossed his arms and nodded once. The others weren't pleased with the decision, that much was obvious. Blake scowled while Ruby pouted, and even Nora looked upset. Ren, if I was reading him right, appeared more suspicious than anything. Still, none of them could argue. It was a little much to expect the King to put them all up for however long this was going to take. They all had lessons at Beacon, too. It wasn't like school had stopped just because I was in a situation like this.
"There's not much that can be done about it," I said. "I'm fine with it."
"You're fine with being left here on your own?" Blake asked.
"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Nobles play their games, Jaune," she said, voice thick with forced patience. "They all have their own agenda and it won't necessarily be in your best interests. No offence," she grumbled.
Hazel shrugged. "You are not incorrect."
She might not be, but I frowned either way. Blake sounded like she was explaining something obvious to a baby. "I know that, Blake."
"Clearly you don't, or you wouldn't be so blasé about it." She rolled her eyes.
Mine hardened. "Are you saying I can't be trusted to do this on my own? Or that I'm stupid?"
"What!? No, that's not what I'm saying at all."
"What, then? Because you're either saying I need you to watch over my shoulder, or that I'm too inept to realise the Nobles won't be on my side. It's one or the other."
"I'm saying that you're not exactly great at things like this."
"And you are? Blake, you made less friends at Beacon than I did." I laughed to try and make light of what I was saying, but she was having none of it. She glared back at me.
"This isn't about making friends! It's about-" She cut off with a growl and shook her head. "No. You know what, fine. Never mind. Do what you want. It's not like I could ever stop you, common sense or not. You never listened to me before. Why start now?"
"Guys," Yang groaned. "Now of all times?"
"No. We're done." Blake stepped back with an expression of forced neutrality. "Jaune will be fine. He said so himself."
Damn it, Blake. I ran a hand over my face. "I'm doing what I have to, not what I want. You heard Hazel; no one else can stay here. Saying I'm too incompetent to look after myself isn't going to change that fact, so bringing it up is a waste of time in the first place." I waited for a reaction, but Blake never gave one. As the seconds ticked on and everyone started to look more awkward, I coughed and said to the others, "You guys have to go back to Beacon. That's not my choice nor yours, it's just how things are."
Pyrrha agreed quickly. "Will you be alright on your own?"
A flash of irritation – another – ran through me. I stamped it down. "I'll be fine, honest." At least Pyrrha was polite with her doubt. "I'll have to be fine. Unless you all intend to force yourselves into a room and refuse to leave, I'll have to be."
"We're not suggesting that," Weiss said.
"Then what are you all suggesting?" I wasn't quite able to keep the hint of my temper out of the question.
None of them answered. I suppose inside they were all thinking that they wanted to be a part of this and help me out. I appreciated the concern, but I didn't feel the same way about the doubt. It was like they thought I had no idea what I was getting into. I knew I was in over my head. I knew this was serious. But I also knew that there wasn't much that could be done about me being the only one allowed to stay here, and they were acting like I couldn't be trusted to handle it, or that I'd be doomed without their help.
I wasn't arrogant enough to think I'd excel here, but then no one was expecting me to. They could at least trust me to not mess it all up. Either way, the whole argument was pointless. And worse, it was making us look stupid in front of the King's Steward.
But Blake had to take everything so personally. I suppose I was as guilty there, but I hadn't been the one to accuse the other of being an idiot. If this were a fight, I'd have deferred to her experience, but Blake had to be the most anti-social person I knew. Even Ruby was just shy, not intentionally standoffish. If anyone was going to offend someone important here, it was going to be Blake.
I kept that thought to myself. No need to fan the flames.
"We should go," Ruby said, looking between Blake and I with that heartbroken expression I'd seen all too many times on her face. She looked to Hazel hopefully. "You said we could come back tomorrow."
The giant of a man nodded, and for a moment his face softened. "Yes. I will spread your names to those on the gates. They shall not impede you. You may make your way to the main hall or wait in the entranceway. Do not attempt to wander the halls or you shall get lost."
"Is that okay, Jaune?" she asked me nervously. "If we come tomorrow?"
"Of course it is," I said. Even if I'd not wanted them to, her expression would have melted my anger. "In fact, I'd be annoyed if you didn't. You better not leave me to go through all this alone."
I meant it as a joke, but there was a flinch or two among them. I winced as well, and wished I'd not brought it up. The reminder of how they'd all let me walk away after my Class was discovered, how they hadn't stood with me. It hovered between us like a spectre.
I tried to wave it away with a smile. "Do me a favour and collect any homework, yeah? I don't want to fall behind. And Pyrrha, could you offer Ellayne a little sparring if you've got time?"
Pyrrha's face lit up. "I'd be happy to!"
"I'll take notes for you," Ren said.
"I'll help!" Nora crowed, eager to be of use.
"Thank you."
"Yeah, we'll look after things in Beacon," Yang said, happy to jump on the opportunity I'd given them. "We'll see you tomorrow. Come on guys." She took Ruby, turned her away and used her body to guide the others to move. They did, each turning to give me a wave, smile or their well-wishes as they left. All except Blake, who didn't even give me the honour of her attention. Soon, it was just Hazel and I alone in the corridor.
"Sorry about that," I said.
"It's no matter. Your personal issues are no business of mine." He pushed the door to my chamber open and gestured for me to step inside. He followed, closing it behind him. "This will be your chamber for the duration of your stay. You are free to roam the Royal Court, but I will have to ask you not leave and head into Vale. Not until your return is officiated."
"Am I to be a prisoner here, then?"
"No. You should be free to leave tomorrow or the day after, but we would like to have a chance to make it clear to the public you are not acting against the King before you do. If you were to walk around the streets now, you might be swamped by people demanding answers."
"How do I go about doing that?"
"Simply stand before him and kneel when court is summoned tomorrow. The news will spread on its own that you are still a vassal of the crown." He paused. "Of course, kneel only if you are willing – though I would advise not causing a scene."
"I'll kneel." I'd never considered myself a particularly loyal person, but then I wasn't disloyal either. Beacon was in service of the Crown, and Dad paid his taxes. Standing here? It would just make me look like an ass, and probably invite trouble down the line, both from the Nobles and those who might raise swords against the King.
"Thank you," Hazel said. His expression softened, "And I find I must thank you for something else, as well. I've heard much about you, even before now."
"You have? How?"
"You're surprised." He watched me for a moment, before his eyes closed in realisation. "She did not mention me? No. I suppose she would not." He let out a quiet sigh. "I am Hazel Rainart. You have been mentoring and protecting my sister, Ellayne Rainart."
"E-Ellayne? She's your sister!?"
"She has not mentioned it, I see. Perhaps she did not want to, or maybe she-" He paused. "No, you need not worry yourself with it. Ellayne is indeed my sister, though she was born of the Hero Caste. A recessive gene far back through the family line. There was pressure on her to perform well. I'm relieved to hear she has found someone to rely on."
"Ah well, I just train here when I can. She has friends of her own."
"I am aware. She sends letters." Hazel regarded me with a little more intensity. "They mention you often."
I wasn't sure what I thought about that, but I knew what Hazel's expression was implying. My cheeks darkened. "We're not like that. Not at all."
"Yes. I would know if you were."
Oh, and that wasn't at all threatening.
"Regardless, you have my thanks for watching over Ellayne where I cannot. I should leave you to rest." Hazel stepped back, though he paused at the door. "Saren bids you leave your window open tonight and stay awake. He would speak with you."
"Saren? What about…?"
"He wishes to prepare you for what is to come, so that you are not caught off-guard."
"Ah. That's helpful. But why come in through the window when he has free reign of the palace?" I didn't doubt for a second that was the intent. It wouldn't be the first time an Assassin had snuck into my room, though I doubted – and hoped – it wasn't for the same reason Blake often had.
"Saren and I speak with the word of the King," Hazel explained. "But the King should not be aiding you. Saren is a means to do so without notice. As for why the warning, I imagine Saren is not keen to startle the man who slew Cinder Fall in single combat."
My face heated up. "Right. Makes sense. I'll keep it open." A thought occurred to me. "Um, Hazel. Do you know what happened to Torchwick and Neo? After we captured them, I mean. Was anything found out, or did they say anything?"
"The investigation is something better explained by Ozpin."
"Oh. Okay."
"If that is all, I'll bid you a good night."
"Sure. Thank you, Hazel." I bowed back.
Once he left the room, I had a chance to sit down on the largeish bed – fit for two and comfortably firm with cream, silk sheets and a feather quilt – and think. Here I was, in a room in the Royal Palace as a guest of honour. Of sorts. It was the kind of thing I'd only dared dream of back home, though most of those stories involved me slaying a dragon and being honoured by the King, possibly with the hand of a princess.
Instead, I'd slain a woman I respected and was being honoured with suspicion, paranoia and a hefty dose of speculation by the Nobles. Real life, as usual, had a disturbing tendency to deviate from my fantasies. Go figure.
I thought of Beacon briefly. I missed it. Not just the people, but its halls, gardens and the pleasant structure I had there. Lessons, training and the hustle and bustle of younger Heroes farming in the Emerald Forest, or older ones talking about Quests, the latest gossip or what adventures they'd been on, sometimes over homework, food or just laughing in the streets of the Guild Village. I missed the ease of it, the day to day monotony.
But I couldn't regret what I'd had to do. At least Vale was still standing, and not under Mistral rule. With a sigh, I stood and made my way to the window, which led to a balcony overlooking the city. Unlatching it, I sat back down on the bed and waited.
/-/
It was past eleven when a shadow landed on my balcony. I saw it more than I heard it, but only because I was awake and waiting. It moved to the open window, but then paused to tap gently on it. It was unlocked, but Saren made no move to enter.
"I'm awake," I said. "Come in."
"Thank you." The Assassin slid inside and clicked the window shut behind him. He wore his dark cloak as usual, though I caught a smile on his grizzled face. "Though I'd warn you ahead of time through Hazel. Can't imagine you're too used to having an Assassin sneak into your room late at night."
I coughed, flushed and looked away. Damn hormones.
"Y-Yeah," I lied. "I'm not."
"Hm? No matter." Saren turned and closed the curtains. "If anyone asks, I was never here. Galan can't show favouritism. The Nobles would never stand for it, especially not with someone like you."
"Someone like me?"
"Someone who exists outside the system. You're an unknown, boy. That frightens them."
"They shouldn't be afraid of me."
"Oh, they're not afraid of you, make no mistake there. They're afraid of what you represent. They're afraid of change, and you bring that. Galan wants you prepared, aware of the danger and what's going on here. But if he tries to tell you in person, the people will talk."
"But he's the King. They can't they really stop him."
"I'm sure the King of Mistral thought that, too."
I gasped. "They'd kill him?"
"For talking to you? No. It's just an example, a way to show you the King's position is never fully secure. No one lives without consequence, boy. Not you, not me and certainly not a King or Queen. Everything he does is watched, considered, measured. It's a fine balance and one he's managed for decades. One you threaten to disrupt."
"So, why am I here at all? Why not just get rid of me?"
"Because you saved his life. Because you saved his Kingdom. Because you're innocent." Saren shrugged. "Galan may be King, but he is still human. He can think for himself. Killing you might remove the risk of the Nobles getting upset, but it'll piss off every member of the Labour Caste across Vale, assuming they find out – and believe me, news like this has a way of spreading. All it takes is a single Noble who wants the King in a problematic situation, and it'll be told. Similarly, killing or even imprisoning you would anger the Hero Caste, and possibly even the Soldier Caste since you stopped the war for them. It's a foolish move, a reckless move, and beyond that, a dick move." Saren laughed. "Galan is none of these things."
"Sorry," I said, a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to suggest that. I'm just nervous."
"I know, don't worry about it. Let me explain the situation to you and don't interrupt. Once I'm done, I'll answer a few questions, but we don't have time for more. My absence could be noted at any moment."
I nodded and sat down. Saren did the same on one of the seats in the room, pulling it out, spinning it about and sitting with his stomach against the back, legs on either side of it. He let his arms rest on the top, crossed and exposed.
"The war is over, Mistral is defeated, and they've backed off. Galan managed to force the King of Mistral to agree and sign several sanctions before he was sent off, and even with his death Mistral is still locked into them."
"Do they have to honour them, though?"
Saren sighed. "I said no questions." He answered anyway. "But yes, they do. To do anything less would be to show the world they can't be trusted. That's bad enough for international relations, practically ensuring Atlas sides with us in any future conflict, but it would also be a culture shock to the people of Mistral. They're all about honour, rules and discipline. You can't just have the Royal Family throw that out the window and not expect some backlash."
"Anyway," he continued, pausing for a second to make sure I wasn't about to interrupt again. "Mistral is dealt with, at least for now. If they even tried to resume hostilities, Atlas would come crashing down on them. Problem is, even though we won, there's a lot of instability going around. Some Nobles are dead, others dispossessed for having failed or proven themselves negligent in the war. There are power vacuums, holdings without Dukes and a whole heap of opportunities out there just waiting to be grasped. And believe me, they're grasping them. Or trying to."
"The Royal Court is alive in a way it hasn't been since the war began. Or even before. Everyone is looking for an advantage, an edge, and that's both a boon and a problem for you."
Dad had always said a crisis was just another man's opportunity. When a farmer had his ox and cart stolen, someone else would have a chance to sell him an ox, and there might be work for a Blacksmith fashioning wheels and a bit. This was the same in a way, though I imagined the Nobles would chafe at being compared to farmers or Blacksmiths
"It's good for you because it's a distraction. They're busy and you, if you'll forgive me for saying it, just aren't as important to them as prosperity, glory and position. On the other hand, you're a public figure Galan has to deal with. Since killing you would be a fairly dumb move and incite riots at worst and just plain old derision at best, he's going to deal with you by reaffirming your loyalty, honouring you and basically showing the Kingdom that he respects and appreciates your aid, and that you're both on the same side."
"That's good," I said, cheering up. That was very good. And if Saren spoke for the King like Hazel said, it was as good as confirmation that I'd be okay.
"It is and it isn't, sadly. It's good for you in the sense you're unlikely to be executed, but if you thought you would be for saving the King's life, then I'd say you're either stupid or you think Galan is." Saren rolled his eyes when I looked away awkwardly. "Really, what message do you think it would send loyal subjects if someone who did their best to help, saving the King's life and ending the war, was treated so poorly?"
"A bad one," I conceded. "That he's a terrible, cruel or prideful man."
"Exactly. Make no mistake, he wants to do right by you. You saved his life. But he also has to do it. The Nobles know that, and that means you're liable to become an important figure – if not realistically, then politically – in the coming weeks. You're going to go up in standing, and that my friend, is going to be enticing to others who would like to do the same. Just remember, everyone here has an agenda, and nothing is free. If you want to avoid causing trouble, instability or getting yourself into something you can't get out of, stick to yourself. Be polite, cordial, but agree to nothing. In an ideal world, we'll have everything sorted and you back at Beacon before anything can go wrong." Everything said, Saren let out a long breath. "Okay. Questions?"
"What of the Greycloaks?" I asked instantly.
"Huh. Not what I expected you to ask. Alright, I know Ozpin trusts you with them. He's been working with Galan, Hazel and I on the matter," he explained. "So, we know all about your trips to Atlas, Mistral and Vacuo. I wouldn't be telling you this otherwise. As for them, they've been quiet. Do we think they're involved in this? No. But we're pretty sure they'll want to get involved. It's too juicy for them not to."
Not a plot, then, but it might become on in time. I nodded. "What about Torchwick? Was anything found out from him?"
"A little. He talked once I got my hands on him, but what he knew was limited. He met the leader of the Greycloaks once, or who he thought was the leader, but they were masked. His job was to be ferry around the means to summon Salem, and to supply the tools required. He was also a spy in Beacon."
"What do you mean the tools and means?"
"It turns out not all the Greycloaks know how to summon her," Saren said. "Which is odd. The leader sends Torchwick to meet with a chosen representative each time, who will be the next to summon her. No requirements are made of them and their wish is apparently their own, but each time Roman told them what was learned from the last summoning. Each new summoner gets a chance to learn from the mistakes the last one made."
"But… why? Why do it one at a time and why have this huge organisation if you're only going to have a single person make the wish?"
"We – that is to say, Ozpin – thinks it's because granting wishes isn't the main goal of the Greycloaks. It's just a way to get people to join up. He thinks their goal is less the wishes themselves, at least for now, and more to find out about Salem. To refine the process."
"Refine…?"
"Think about it. You've seen what Salem does to her summoners each time. She twists their wishes against them and ultimately kills them. But from what we've seen, it's been getting harder for her each time. Merlot, she just killed. But she had to trick you into killing Tyrian, and the resurrected woman with Watts. The Greycloaks are getting better and better at making their wishes, and that's through pure trial and error. Frankly, we've no idea how long this has been going on for. It could be years, even decades. If Salem kills each summoner, we would never hear of it. Ironically, she has been keeping Vale safe. Though, I doubt that's from the goodness of her own heart."
"Yeah. I doubt it." My brow furrowed. "We saw a portal closing in Vacuo…"
"And it's possible one was present in Atlas, Mistral and Magnis, too. Someone, possibly the leader, has watched each summoning, taken notes and passed them on. They're trying to find a way to make the perfect wish, or at least one without consequence. Our problem isn't these selfish little wishes Salem is killing people for. Even if it worked, one resurrected Mage is hardly going to change Remnant. Our concern is whatever the final wish is going to be."
"Because whatever it is, it's worth killing a whole lot of their own people for," I finished.
"Exactly…"
Worse and worse. At least we knew what their overall goal was now, even if we didn't have the details on their wish or their next steps. They'd have to replace Roman, but if the leader already knew the secrets – as was likely – then all we'd done was delay and annoy them.
"I can't stay much longer," Saren said, standing. "Keep your wits about you tomorrow, Jaune Arc, and the days to come. It's almost certain our court has been infiltrated, and even if it hasn't, few here are your friends. If you need me, make a sign or leave note with Hazel. I will come by the same method I have tonight."
"Alright. Thank you."
Saren nodded and moved to the window, clicking it open. He paused with half his body in, half out. "And another thing, beware of your friends. Though I'm sure you know best whether you can trust them, some might see them as an avenue to reach you. Bribery, blackmail, threats or promises, any can be swayed if the right motivation is brought forth."
"I trust my friends," I said.
I did, but at the same time… No. I trusted them. We were fighting. That was all.
"Very well. You know them better than I."
With a flap of his cloak, Saren was gone, over the balcony and out of sight. The still night air remained, wafting through the open window as I stood and pinched the bridge of my nose. Again, I wished I could be back in Beacon. Or Ansel. Back where things weren't quite so complicated. Back before the war would have been nice, too, before my secret had been revealed. Back when my friends were still my friends, everyone trusted one another, and Blake would have visited my room late at night with a smile on her face.
The sheets that night were cold.
So, a little more lore – or the Kingdom's suspicions – on the nature of the Greycloaks and what is going on. Meanwhile, Jaune reaches the capitol and gets settled down, but no longer with the protection of the Guild around him.
Also, the Ellayne thing is not a throwaway line for those who might wonder. She has a part to play. This is just a glimpse of her past.
Next Chapter: 22nd October
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
