So, it's a bank holiday here in England.
And I forgot. And I drove into work.
And I unlocked work, since I'm the boss and am usually there early to open the offices anyway. And I started working until, like, 10 in the morning, when I suddenly realised that it's super quiet out on the sales floor. So I go out ready to ask why everyone is so quiet and realise no one is there. Then I check the answer phone and see it's set to a recorded message. I play it.
"Thank you for calling. We're not here today due to a bank holiday, but…"
My face when…
T_T
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Dishwasher1910
Book 8: Chapter 15
Great encampments covered the fields outside Vale, stretching off towards what felt like the horizon with many more approaching in the distance like grand armies, clouds of dust kicked up behind them. Thousands of people milled, many huddled in groups with children clutched to their sides and holding on to scant belongings. It was the refugee crisis of Ansel all over again, except on a scale one hundred times greater. Through and past it, the walls of Vale stood tall and indomitable, though now with wooden attachments added on for what I assumed were archers and other people to stand upon. Spiked barricades had also been laid at the bottom pointing outward, promising death to any who might recklessly charge the walls.
Those fortifications did not cover all of it. They were still being built in fact, with teams of people working to dig trenches, carry logs and place them. All in all, maybe a tenth of the walls looked to be fortified, though there was no telling given that we could only see the side we approached from.
Our entourage slowed down once it reached the outskirts of the refugee camp. The press of bodies demanded it and we had to pick our way through cautiously. I had the uncomfortable feeling that Miss Goodwitch wanted us to see this. Why else would she have opened a portal to just outside Vale than within?
Eventually, after a good twenty minutes of being crowded and assaulted by nervous people hoping we had answers, we reached the main road. That, at least, was kept clear by Soldier Caste members forming a cordon. They saw Glynda and let us through with ease, and the going was clear once we were on the main road. Other vehicles trundled down, carriages and carts carrying what I assumed to be foodstuff and other supplies for the upcoming siege.
"Your… companions will have to stay out here," Glynda said, looking to Adam and the pirates. "I will see supplies brought to them within the hour, but the city cannot take more people in just yet." She looked to Adam, clearly the leader. "You may feel free to claim what land you wish and use it how you see fit. If your men wish to hunt, they may do so."
"Understood." Adam stepped back and looked to Blake. "Come find us once all are settled."
Blake inclined her head.
"What is the situation with the refugees?" Weiss asked our teacher.
"They are being kept outside the walls for now to prevent overcrowding and rioting. They have food and drink aplenty, but tensions are high for their fear we will lock them out when the enemy comes."
"That's not going to happen," I said. "Surely."
"Of course not. But they are frightened and desperate. Bringing them in now, with no immediate threat, would be a disaster. It is difficult enough to move building supplies down the narrow pathways and we cannot afford to be tripping over people sleeping in the streets."
Glynda bade us pause as she approached the great gates, one of which was closed and the other open, guarded by many people who stood with spears and shields at the ready. She spoke to one, gestured to us and then spoke some more, earning some quick nods and a runner from the guard further into the city. That person came back with another, a Scholar – a member of the Noble Caste – who approached us with a thick tome balanced in his hand.
"Names," he intoned. "Class, Caste and position."
"Yang Xiao-Long. Brawler. Hero. And… position?"
"Beacon student," Glynda answered for her, and for the rest of us. The Scholar nodded and took it down, each of us coming forward one at a time to give our details, with myself being the last, mostly because I knew it would be the more complicated.
"Jaune Arc. Blacksmith and Swordmaster. Labour and Hero Caste. Beacon student."
The Scholar looked up with narrowed eyes and a small frown. Expecting me to back down, he held the gaze, then looked to Glynda for confirmation. When she nodded, his eyes widened imperceptibly, and he wrote the details down.
My legend – if I felt comfortable calling it that – was known across Vale, but few expected to actually meet me. I imagined there were plenty who thought it all make believe.
"You may report to Beacon," the Scholar said, closing his book. "Be aware that should you work outside the walls, you are to report and have your name ticked off, and you are to be signed back into the city. Failure to comply will result in less supplies being sent to Beacon, leaving some – likely yourselves – to go hungry."
"Necessary precautions," Glynda explained once we were through and into the city proper. Just as we'd left it, it might have seemed from within that naught was wrong. There was a nervous energy in the air, however. "Rationing has already begun to conserve supplies. While Ozpin does not believe Salem will be interested in a drawn-out siege, there are too many mouths to feed as it is. This is why I opened a portal outside the walls. Had we entered Beacon directly, the school would not have enough food in its rations."
I listened and nodded my head where expected to, but my attention was on the city itself, on the carts that trundled by with iron and wood stacked in the back. Supplies for the war effort. Vale had not been idle in our absence.
"What of the other Kingdoms?" Pyrrha asked. "When we stopped in Mistral, they seemed unaware."
"They have been warned," Glynda replied. "And Vale has called for aid, citing ourselves as the first target. Or so Ozpin suspects." She looked us over. "I judge from your lack of protest, the headmaster's suspicions are true."
"Two months," I answered. "She said we'd have two months."
"What arrogance… to give us time and a date. All the worse that it may well be justified. To continue where I left off, Atlas has promised its aid. The Archmage is coming in a day or two to assist with defences and preparations. There is no news from the other Kingdoms just yet. Mistral has just come from their war with us, while Vacuo is as disjointed as ever."
"Mistral wouldn't sit back and do nothing," Pyrrha argued.
"They would if they had naught but our word that we would be the first target. They've little reason to believe Ozpin when he claims otherwise." Glynda's grimace said it all on that front, and I could only imagine she'd spent hours trying to argue with a delegation from Mistral. "Our only hope on that front is that when they see us under attack, they mobilise reinforcements. If Salem truly brings a force capable of sweeping us aside, Mistral will know they cannot afford to wait to strike at her."
"Such is the hope," Ren muttered. "They may very well wait to the last moment if they think they can."
If they thought they could get away with that and conquer us after, they just might. There was nothing we could do about that, however, only do our best to hold Salem off and hope that the combined forces of Vale and Atlas would hold.
The gates of Beacon stood open as they always had – the extra wall that surrounded it making the academy a fortress in its own right. If the city fell, Beacon would stand a little longer. Alone, it wouldn't be able to win the day. I wondered if Vale would use it as a haven for the civilians and refugees when the time came. We certainly had the room; even a village dedicated solely to Guilds.
Walking through the gates, I was hit by a wave of nostalgia. And with a sense of satisfaction, like we'd finally come home. The tall form of the academy set atop the plateau of rock that led down toward the Guild Village, stood like a candle, lit from the top of Ozpin's tower by a burning pyre. Heroes trained in the gardens and the clash of steel echoed from its grounds. Robed figures – Nobles rather than Mages – hurried back and forth, some of them carrying weaponry and armour that burned with arcane light to my Runesight.
Ozpin's opened the vault. I guess it only makes sense to share that bounty with the strongest heroes defending Vale.
"The headmaster is in his office. He… I will not say he has been expecting your return, but we certainly hoped for it." Glynda heralded us forward with a wave of her arm. "Come. I will take you to him."
/-/
"I see."
Ozpin leaned back once I finished my tale, the others chipping in to fill the blanks I'd missed. The Sage's face was old and worn, more so than it usually was. He seemed to age ten years on the mention of Raven's fate alone. Learning more of what Salem was capable of and what abilities she showed in her `so-called battle` against Ruby and I, only served to make it worse.
When I offered him my breastplate, with the fingerhole still pushed through it, Ozpin became pensive and turned the enchanted steel over in his hands.
"How do we fight such a creature? Will the walls stand against the tap of her fist? Will we have a chance to battle at all, or will she simply burn us from the face of Remnant with but the wave of a hand?"
"I don't know." I rubbed a hand over the healed wound on my chest. The fresh mark was burned over the scar I'd received when I'd taken Cinder's sword into my body. "But I don't think she'll kill us with a snap of her fingers. I think she'll let us fight."
Ozpin looked to me. "What makes you say that?"
"When she faced Ruby and I. There was a sense of… theatrics about her. Like everything was a game. She was angry, but it was the anger of someone dragged onto the stage against their will. Or too early. Why let me go? Why warn us? Why give us two months? Salem wants this battle. Whether that's for her own twisted amusement or not, I don't think she'll waste all this time and effort just to blast us with magic the second it starts."
"Banking our survival on the whims of a mad god is not my definition of a good idea, Mr Arc."
"It's not mine either. I'm just saying we don't have a choice. She's coming. Maybe our walls won't mean anything and maybe you're right, but, sir, does that change anything?"
"No." Ozpin chuckled. "I suppose it does not. Maudlin musings aside, we'll still fight for our survival when the time comes. Pardon an old man his moment of doubt." Ozpin stood, taking his cane and leaning on it with an air of pride. "I am pleased to see your return and grateful for the warning you have brought us. While I am… displeased at your sudden departure and your recklessness, I have neither the desire nor time to punish you for it. There are bigger matters to focus on."
"The siege," Yang answered for us. "What do we do? How can we help?"
"You will be expected to report to Oobleck or Port tomorrow morning," Ozpin replied. "They will have tasks for each and every student, tasks which will be decided based on your specialities. After that, you will have personal time. I suggest you use it to train and prepare yourselves. Two months may seem like a long time, but it will pass by quickly. For now, go rest. Rest and be welcome back to Beacon."
While the others left, I hung behind, making it clear I had more to say. The others looked on confused, but I waved them on, and they must have assumed it was something that hadn't been mentioned. They left, Glynda with them.
"Something else on your mind, Mr Arc?"
"The Rune on Raven's weapon, Seal, it didn't work. It didn't even bother Salem. Not even an attempt by her to dodge or react to it." I brought my sword out, the clumsy and weak Crocea Mors with the Seal Rune added. "It's useless."
Ozpin took it and inspected the design, holding the sword by the hilt and the blade before him. He tilted it so that the light from the window shone over it, then placed it back down on the table, pushing it toward me.
"Say what we will about her character and her motives, but Raven knew more about Salem than we do. I will hold to the hope that this was utilised incorrectly, rather than that it is useless. She would not have risked so much to kidnap, torture and make you strong enough to create it if that were the case." He motioned for me to take it back. "Keep hold of it for now. Perhaps in the fullness of time its purpose will become apparent."
I hadn't wanted to say anything in front of the others, but alone with Ozpin, the words slipped out. "We can't beat her if she tries."
"Hm? Are you not the one who told me that fact does not matter?"
Only in front of my friends, and only to keep their spirits up. "Salem didn't fight Raven, she toyed with her. Toyed with us as well. Raven was able to slaughter hundreds of people on her own – and they weren't weak. Most of them were at the level of our Soldier Caste. And Raven was limited to close combat. How much worse is it going to be now that we know Salem can cast spells and summon Grimm? At least Raven had to get close enough to swing a sword."
"All Classes have weaknesses, Mr Arc. A Mage is terrifying at range but vulnerable in close quarters."
"And what is the weakness of a God?" I asked.
"That, I'm afraid, is something we will have to find out on our own. We made plans for Raven in your absence. Forgive me for saying it, but we did not expect you all to survive."
I couldn't bring myself to be offended. We hadn't expected it either. "It's fine. What kind of plans?"
"Strategies on how to deal with her, even assuming she reached a Level of two-hundred. None of those were simple, of course, but all feasible. For instance, we considered the option of luring her to a certain spot and bathing the area in spell fire. Even assuming she could move faster than the eye could see, it would just be question of attacking a wider and wider area until we hit her, then applying more and more force until she died."
"How would you have kept her in place?"
"It would have required a sacrifice of people." Ozpin looked to the side, noting my shocked expression. "Nothing like Salem," he said. "The people chosen would know their role and it would be voluntary. A sacrifice to end a great threat to the world. Or we might have lured her in with something she wanted, though I can't say what that might have been." He laughed. "Perhaps me. If I had invited her to treaty, she may have done so for old time's sake. My life would have been a small price to pay to end her."
"All those plans are useless now, though." I said.
"Yes, but new plans can be made, now for Salem. We had tried before but knew nothing about her. Now with her Class, we do." Ozpin turned, tapping a finger against my chest. "From what you have told us, she appears to focus on abilities that are… similar to magic. God or Goddess may well be a spellcaster-based Class. I would imagine her ability to detect and counter spells would be second to none. Therefore, we will have to focus on killing her through physical means. The age-old weakness of a Mage."
"I don't think that will work here, sir. She disarmed Raven with ease and caught and shattered my sword with one hand."
"Yes. With one hand. If she didn't fear it, why do that? Physical injuries may still be able to harm her now that she is as flesh and blood as you or I. And while she may be powerful beyond measure, she still only has two hands. If we must swing three swords at her, we shall, though I'll err on the side of caution and swing three thousand swords, accompanied by three thousand pikes and a hail of three thousand arrows."
"Overwhelming quantity…?"
"Yes. Raven tried to best Salem through quality and that has failed. We can't hope to do the same with any more success, and none of us would be willing to see our fellows die to create one super-levelled Hero. It's clear that Salem is unreachable on even terms. So, we shall not face her on such."
"The Grimm will be a problem," he continued. "Make no mistake. She may well be able to match or exceed our numbers, but Grimm are still Grimm. Our Heroes can slay those in droves, and our defences will stand firm. In the end, our true enemy is Salem. Cut her down and the Grimm will, if not disappear, at least cease to come in endless numbers."
Ozpin's plan was risky at the very least. The thing about quantity was that while it worked, it came at a horrendous cost. Throwing thousands of people at a dangerous foe was like ants banding together to kill a predator. It worked and happened in nature, but ants were prepared to sacrifice themselves like that. People weren't nearly so willing.
But, on the other hand, he was right in saying individual quality wouldn't win this. Whatever I thought about her, Raven had been the greatest Hero of our age. Hero – the Caste – not the example of heroism. If she had meant so little against Salem, no one else in Remnant would. We had to win through whatever means were available.
"A lot of people are going to die."
"A lot of people will anyway," Ozpin said firmly. "Let us not lie to ourselves about this, Mr Arc. We stand on the precipice of a steep cliff, at the bottom of which lays complete annihilation. Men and women of all Castes are going to be called upon to give their lives. All men like you or I can do is ensure that they do not have to stand alone. That we do not ask them to do anything we, ourselves, are not prepared to do." The man clapped my arm. "When the time comes, I will stand upon that wall. I feel in my heart that I will be one of the first to fall."
"Sir?"
"Call it a feeling. Or maybe just common sense. I won't hide behind the lines and I am, arrogance aside, one of the strongest Heroes living in Vale. To try and cut a path through to Salem, I will expel all of my power. If by my life I can give our people a chance, I will take it."
I licked my lips. "Me too. I'll do whatever I have to."
"Truly, Mr Arc?" Ozpin held both my shoulders and looked me in the eye. "Do you mean this when you say it here and now?"
His intensity surprised me. "S-Sir?"
"I have a task for you, Jaune Arc. A request. It is not glamourous, and it is not what you might wish of yourself. It is… something you will hate."
I swallowed. "What do you want me to do?"
"I want you to work the forge, Mr Arc. I want you to smith while others fight."
My face fell. My stomach fell with it. I opened my mouth to protest, to argue that I couldn't sit back while others fought and died, but Ozpin beat me to it, silencing me with a finger against my lips.
"I believe you could do more aid for the people of Vale through your Blacksmithing Skills than through any heights you might reach as a Swordmaster. Your Runes, Mr Arc, are something that might turn the tide. As a combatant, you are but one man, and not even a particularly strong one. As a Blacksmith, you are the greatest craftsman Vale has ever seen."
"You want me to equip everyone in Vale?"
"If possible," Ozpin admitted frankly. "Or, if not, I'd like you to place Runes on the equipment of anyone and everyone you can."
"They're not strong enough," I argued. "I can give five or so of a Stat. I… I've tried to find more. Ten, twenty or even fifty, but it's hopeless." I paced across the room. "I've been trying to make my own – it's working, but not fast enough. I made something that can incapacitate, and it even worked on Salem, but it's not enough. And raising people's stats is hard. I really thought this would be the key to beating her, but-"
"Mr Arc." Ozpin's voice cut through my tirade. His face was calm, sympathetic. "I understand, Mr Arc. I, too, have found myself wondering if I should not be the one to defeat her, being the headmaster of Beacon. Is it not my responsibility?"
The Sage stood, making his way to one of the windows of his tower. He motioned for me to follow and I did, coming up to stand beside him, looking out over Beacon and, in the distance, over the vast city of Vale itself.
"No one person can hold the world upon his or her shoulders. While we all see ourselves as the hero of our own story, that simply isn't true. That's why Salem is wrong to call our existence by that term. Life is not so convenient, nor so easily predicted. Your Runes, though only offering minor assistance, may be what swings this war. Five points of Constitution may not mean much to you, but spread over one hundred and fifty thousand people, it is an incredible force multiplier."
"Is that how many Heroes we have!?" I asked, shocked.
"No. It is how many Heroes, Soldier Caste, Noble Caste and Labour Caste we have. Though the people have yet to realise it, everyone will have to fight if we are to survive the coming days. Distinctions between Caste will soon be meaningless."
It was everything I'd ever wanted. Wasn't it? The end of the Caste System. Ironic how little I wanted that now, not like this. Had Salem been here, she would surely have mocked me for it. She would work her way into my head and convince me I'd made this possible.
"Have the people been told?"
"No. It has not yet been decided. But you have seen our enemy first-hand, and what she is capable of. You know better than any how we cannot rely on Heroes – which make up less than ten per cent of our population – to fight back the coming horde. We will take to the front lines," he said. "Heroes will stand upon the walls in the early days and fight them back, side by side with Soldier Caste, but as casualties mount and the enemy pushes us in, it will be up to everyone to defend their own lives. That is why I want you to build us an armoury."
"Because while five of a stat won't mean much to a Hero, it'll be a big difference to someone weaker," I finished. "To a Farmer or Fisherman."
Come the hour, come the people – but Ozpin was relying on me to cheat and make those people stronger. Give them a better chance at surviving the oncoming storm. It would mean leaving my friends to handle the hard work and fortify the walls, but I knew they'd understand.
Maybe this would help me understand, too. If Ozpin wanted Runes, I would give them to him. Runes by the hundreds. By the thousands. Maybe straining my Path that way would open up a new avenue for me. A new Skill. It was a long shot, but it was all we had.
On the wall, I'd just be another body with a sword. I wasn't even exceptional in that regard. Strong for a Hero student, but below average when it came to the level of most of the adult Heroes that would be recalled to Vale and fighting to defend their homeland.
I hated the idea of it. Hated the very thought of watching my friends go off to battle while I stayed safe, but if Ozpin was going to bring three thousand swords, spears and arrows against Salem, that was nine-thousand Runes I might apply upon them.
No matter how powerful I became, I could not strike that kind of blow with two hands and a single sword. Quantity over quality. And it would be my job to make sure that quantity struck as hard as it could. I could do better as a simple Blacksmith.
My shoulders slumped.
"I'm going to need a forge. And a whole lot of material."
"You shall have it." Ozpin clapped my shoulder. "And thank you. Not all sacrifices are made equal, but yours may well save tens of thousands of lives. Never forget that."
/-/
No sooner had I reached the Lodge then I was cornered by Blake, who was sat outside, legs spread and hands between them, sitting awkwardly and in apparent wait for my return. She looked up when I approached, hearing my footsteps before I could say a word. Slowly, she rose to her feet and approached.
Inside the Lodge, I could hear the others chattering loudly, laughing and, by the sounds of it, enjoying a small celebration to be back, probably with Velvet. There would be proper food for the first time in over a week, but between that and me stood an Assassin with a serious look on her face and an odd intensity in her golden eyes.
"What's wrong?" I asked. "Don't tell me something else has come up."
"Not… quite…" The hesitance in her words surprised me and I paused, looking to her and waiting. "I…" Blake's eyes closed. A breath escaped her. "I've come to apologise."
I hoped my surprise didn't show. "Really?"
"I… Yes…" Grimacing, she looked down, then forced herself to look up again, opening her eyes to meet mine. "Running away without explaining myself and discussing it with the Guild. I won't call it reckless because it wasn't. I thought it out carefully."
"Blake…" My eyes narrowed.
"Please, hear me out. It wasn't reckless or ill-thought out. It was worse. I was selfish and cruel. I convinced myself I was doing this on my own to keep you all safe, and that was true, but I ignored any say you might all have in my actions. I ignored your feelings and what my actions may have done to you all, whether you chose to follow me or let me go."
"I knew there was a high chance I'd die," she went on. "I accepted that. I had to help Adam after all he'd done for me, and I thought that at least if I died alone on this, I'd feel better knowing you weren't all dragged down with me. I didn't think for a second how my death would affect you all. I was just thinking how I would feel. How I wouldn't have to be hurt by you dying, all the while I ignored how you all would be hurt if I did." She bit her bottom lip and her eyes tried again to look away, filled with so much guilt I thought she might snap. "I… It was the worst thing I could have done. At least your mistakes, the things you did at your worst, they were more misguided than cruel. You were afraid but for good reason. While me? I was just selfish. Callous."
"It's not just me you owe an apology to," I whispered.
"I've given it to the others. I wanted to handle this the moment we got back but you stayed to talk with Ozpin." Blake nodded back to the Lodge. "They've accepted my apology, but they weren't as affected by it all as you. I'm friends with them but… I'm only a part of this Guild because of you. I only have them as friends because of you. You and I, we're…" Blake struggled for the right word. "More," she settled on. "Something more."
It seemed like she was waiting for my response, but I didn't know what to say. After a moment in which it took her to realise I was staying silent, she looked around and shuffled on her feet, stepping back and looking to the floor.
"I'm not sure how to do this. Do I bow? Kneel? Both knees and press my head to the floor? I feel like there should be some way of proving how sorry I am, but I have no idea how."
"You don't-" I cut off, voice hoarse. Bowing and supplication wasn't anything I wanted. "You can just say it," I said instead. "And mean it."
"I'm sorry for running away," Blake whispered. "I'm sorry. So sorry…"
"Will you do it again?"
Blake looked around, at the Lodge, at us, at Vale and the situation we were in. "Where would I go? There's nothing left. For better or worse, we're all going to stand our ground here." She smiled weakly. "I'd rather do it knowing I apologised. I am sorry. I didn't forget everyone cared about me. I chose to ignore it. Chose to count my caring as somehow more important than yours, enough so that I could make your choices for you."
"That's a long-winded apology."
"Heh." She laughed. "I've been planning it for the last four days. It… got a little longer each time. More things I wanted to add to make it perfect."
"It doesn't have to be perfect," I said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Just heartfelt. Try it. Try it short and sweet."
Blake's eyes met mine.
"I'm sorry."
With a smile, I pulled her in for a hug, wrapping my arms around her. "Apology accepted."
Hers met behind my lower back. Her forehead pressed against my chest and I felt a little dampness there, though the Assassin would never cry. Just wiping away the moisture on my linen tunic. I let her, the two of us standing there.
"Don't do it again, though."
"I won't," she mumbled. "Promise."
"Good." I squeezed her again but didn't let go. "Come on. Let's go and see the others before they assume we're doing something else." I turned her to the side, moving with one arm around her shoulders and Blake walking alongside me. "Last thing we need is Yang getting it in her head to start taking shots at our expense."
"No," Blake agreed with a smile. "She might start to think she's actually funny. Oh, there is one thing." With her tension diminished, Blake had an amused twinkle in her eye. One that had me on edge. "Maybe a little apology you have to give."
"Me? I thought I apologised for lying to you."
"Not to me. To someone else. Someone you maybe promised to warn the next time you were thinking of going off on an adventure without talking to her first?"
It took me a second to realise, and when I did, my face paled. "Ellayne. Oh, shit."
"Oh shit, indeed," Blake parroted. "She's actually inside."
"Is she angry?"
"I wouldn't know. Pyrrha put her to sleep in her bed. You see, Ellayne heard about our return and came rushing in to find you. She saw all of us around the table right as I was saying sorry to the others. Everyone looked sober and quiet and me with my head down, looking, I imagine, like I was crying."
"And…?"
"And someone was curiously absent," Blake said. "Someone she was looking for."
My stomach dropped. "Oh, double-shit. She thought I died." I couldn't imagine her panic. "Tell me you told her the truth. Tell me you explained."
"We would have tried if she'd given us a chance. But she took one look at us, noticed you missing, saw our serious and upset expressions, let out a strangled sob and then collapsed in a boneless heap."
My hand met my face.
"Ruby caught her. Moved faster than I've ever seen someone move, too. I couldn't track her. Couldn't even see her cross the distance." Blake's amusement faded, replaced with concern. She shook her head after and continued. "We couldn't wake her up, though. Pyrrha suggested letting her rest in her room, along with a note balanced next to her face saying in big writing `Jaune isn't dead`." Blake laughed. "Hopefully, that'll stop us being woken up in the middle of the night by her screaming, but I doubt your little Squire will be quite as forgiving with you. Or willing to let you sleep in peace with how worried she is."
"She's going to kill me."
Blake patted my arm and leaned in to kiss my cheek.
"For good luck," she said. "I've a feeling the big, brave Hero of Vale is going to need it."
One more chapter to this book, I think. We've still a few things to cover, like Ellayne, Ruby's new levels and other aspects. Adam and the pirates at least. I'll be doing my best to make sure this final siege doesn't end up like Magnis.
Maybe I'll pick up and watch Game of Thrones to get an idea- sees drama. Or maybe I won't!
Next Chapter: 3rd June
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
