Troll in Reviews

As has been noted, there is a troll in reviews spamming guest reviews and trying to frame people by writing their name in the name slot. Just ignore it. It's not worth the effort of paying attention to and I'm only writing this message so people are aware.

He's also pretending to be me by writing my name in guest review slots. I would only ever review something from this (logged-in) account.


Chapter 9


"The place we're looking for is on the other side of Mistral."

Adam said it like it was a problem, as though he expected Jaune to argue and complain. Why, he didn't know. He'd seen the location the captured pilot gave away just as Adam had, and it was indeed on the other side of the city. Jaune nodded. "Okay."

"We also need supplies – more than can be bought from a small outskirt village. Sienna wants us to hit a dust convoy after this as well, and since you offered to help us if we help you, it's expected you'll take part."

"Okay," he repeated, a little nervous at the thought of that but determined all the same. "What's the problem, then? We can just pass through Mistral, right?"

"We can. You can't. Remember, your face is plastered everywhere…"

"Oh." Jaune's face burned red, embarrassed that he'd forgotten so quickly. To be fair, he hadn't forgotten more than that he hadn't gotten used to the reality of it. Mistral was the capital of the Kingdom, though. There'd be hundreds of thousands of people there, not to mention police, huntsmen and almost certainly agents and employees of the group who took him. "Ah. That's a problem. We have to go around then?"

"Yes – and that would add at least two days to our travel time. It's not so much a problem for us to go through the city; we can remove our masks and pass as regular faunus. You can't do the same and a hood will only get you so far. There are ID checks on the gates."

Adam wouldn't have brought this all up if he didn't have a solution. "What's your plan?"

"I shall take the majority of our forces and pass through the city." He dragged his finger on the map to track their projected path. "We'll gather supplies, ammunition, dust and stop to research on the path ahead. We have the co-ordinates of our target but no idea what awaits us there. That might take us a little time, but we'd have to wait anyway, because you and Blake shall be skirting around the outside of Mistral, travelling through this village here."

Jaune leaned in to look at the one he was tapping a finger on. It was a small enough village labelled as `Sarana`. Next to it on the map was a symbol like an ear of wheat.

"It's a farming village attached to Mistral," Adam explained. "The city doesn't have room within the walls for farmland so Sarana cropped up nearby, practically in the shadow of the walls. Plenty of farmland and it's still within reinforcement distance of the city. Close, but not close enough for there to be a stationed huntsman presence."

Close enough that Grimm would be unlikely, and he and Blake could pass through without incident. It'd be no less suspicious for him to walk around with his hood drawn up and face hidden, but there'd be less people to care, and if they did end up being found, it would take huntsmen from Mistral time to react.

If they did at all. Since everyone thinks I'm a psychopathic killer, they might decide it's better to not cause a fuss and let me pass by. The thought wasn't as comforting as he'd have liked. Better to stay hidden and avoid that entirely.

"If this is what we have to do, it's what we have to do," he said.

"I'm glad you understand." Adam rolled up the map. "I've explained it to Blake and she's willing to escort you through. You'll be masquerading as travellers wanting to see life outside the city. Make sure to keep your weapons hidden. Blake knows where to meet up on the other side. Once we do, we'll head straight for the facility your sisters are kept at, storm it and see what we can find about the ones in Vale."

"And then we hit the dust convoy?"

"Yes." Adam held his gaze. "Is that going to be a problem?"

"No. Well…" Jaune glanced down. "I'm willing to do it, just a little nervous."

"Nerves are fine, so long as you're prepared to commit." Adam stood and Jaune did the same, taking the hint. "I'll see about buying you a burner scroll in Mistral while we're there. That should let you reach Lavender if you're close enough to a CCT. Be sparing with it. You never know who might be listening. If there's time, I may even stop to get you a weapon. Do you have a preference?"

Jaune looked down to his hip, where the handgun and the knife rested. His immediate wish was for a word and shield like his dad, and he could still remember Crocea Mors, the family blade he'd stared longingly at and dreamed of wielding one day. That was the weapon for a brave knight, he'd thought. Someone noble and chivalrous, who stood against the Grimm to save the day.

Crocea Mors was no doubt buried in the mud by now, left behind when those bastards descended on their family. Or maybe someone had found it and was using it as their own weapon. He hoped so. It'd be a better fate than for it to be sold or melted into scrap. His hands clenched into

"Jaune…?"

"W-Whatever you think is best," he whispered. "Probably a gun. I don't really have the training for anything better. Maybe one that can also be a knife?"

Adam nodded, reached over and clapped his shoulder in as best a supportive gesture as the harsh faunus could. "I'll pick you something worthwhile. A weapon doesn't judge the worth of a man – his actions do. Save your family and I doubt you or they will care what weapon you do it with."

"Yeah." Jaune smiled. Nicholas wouldn't care either. He'd just want the girls back home. "You're right."

/-/

The two groups split up half a day out from Mistral, ostensibly so that the White Fang could further disperse and enter Mistral in groups of two, three or even alone over the course of several hours. For them, it was as simple as removing their masks and pulling on some casual clothing. Jaune wished it could be the same for himself.

"Here." Blake handed him a long and flowing traveller's cloak. It looked like a light brown raincoat that could be secured around the shoulders with a hood drawn up. So that he didn't look too suspicious, she wore the same. "You'll want to keep that up once we're in the village. We'll be spending the night there."

"Is that safe?"

"Safer than camping where Grimm might find us. It's going to be a day to reach there and then a day to reach Adam on the other side. If we arrive at Sarana late, no one should look at us strangely for renting a room and spending the night there. We'll leave the next morning, with no one the wiser."

"Alright." He threw the coat on and pulled the hood up. "I'm sorry about this by the way. I know it's my fault we have to go out our way."

"Don't borrow guilt. It's hardly the first time we've had to do something like this."

Mistral's terrain wasn't as rough and rocky as Atlas, and the constant greenery of the forests and the bright flowers made for a pleasant experience if one ignored the number of miles they had to cover. Blake had them stop three times, and unlike Adam she spaced those out to ensure comfort, instead of walking until they were on the verge of collapse and then stopping to camp.

Be it at a stream to collect water and rest their feet or a wide meadow to stop and have some lunch, the pace she set was much softer than he'd become used to. Given that there was no real rush to reach the village, he didn't let it bother him. They'd reach it at some point tonight and then Adam and the White Fang the next.

If there was one thing Adam had made clear it was that slow and steady was better than reckless aggression. Better he save all his family and it take more time, than half his family sooner and then die and condemn the others to suffering until death.

Along the way they talked, Jaune about Ansel and his family, and Blake about Menagerie and her own. Given his sisters would be setting up there, he had a vested interest in knowing more about what sounded like, from Blake's words, a beautiful island paradise.

"It's mostly fish. Menagerie is an island so there's a lot of seafood."

"I bet that wasn't a problem for you."

Blake shot him a glower. "Is that a joke on me being a faunus?"

"No. it's a joke on your eating habits."

"Fish is good," she said, snapping back ahead with a huff. "It tastes great and is full of protein and essential oils. Better than the fat and carbs you all eat in Vale."

"Hey now. We don't live off that." He laughed under his breath; Blake sure was quick to embarrass, which you wouldn't have expected given how calm she normally was. "And seafood is good. I'm sure the girls will love it. How about your parents?"

"They're good people. Ghira, my father, is big and intimidating but soft on the inside, while Kali is the opposite, all demure housewife on the outside and cunning trickster in secret. They're both protective so your sisters will be safe with them."

"They sound like good people."

"They are."

The sympathetic, or perhaps downright pitying, look she sent him forced his eyes away. He knew what she was thinking - that she should suddenly appreciate her parents a lot more since she still had them. He couldn't disagree but also couldn't take his own time to grieve. He'd never stop if he started.

"They started the White Fang, right?"

"Yes. Back when it was a peaceful organisation."

"And you and Adam disagreed?"

Blake frowned. "We did. I… Looking back, I can say they weren't wrong, but neither were Adam and Sienna. We were achieving nothing. No one cared enough to listen to a thing we said. Our protests would make the news and people might clap along but everyone in power just rolled their eyes and ignored us like we were children acting out."

Power, he thought. It was like Adam said, the White Fang hadn't had enough power to make their voices heard. If it were the military or huntsmen of Atlas on strike the city would capitulate because they needed them, but faunus were cheap labourers mistreated and given the worst jobs. Since most of them were desperate, the power laid with those in charge.

They'd been too easy to ignore. In a way, Atlas birthed the violent White Fang, though he knew they'd never believe nor accept that. They'd birthed him as well, or at least the wanted criminal version of him.

"Do you think we're doing the right thing?" Blake asked suddenly.

"Huh? You mean saving my sisters?"

"No. That's obviously justice. I mean the White Fang. Adam. Us."

"Oh." Jaune considered it for a second, trudging along beside Blake with his eyes ahead. The trees were beginning to thin out and he could see the horizon ahead, the blocky forms of buildings coming into focus. Sarana. Blake's question came first. "I think you are. Obviously, terrorism isn't ideal and maybe I'm biased because I've been labelled one myself, but something has to be done, right? I don't think you're bad people."

Blake didn't look as pleased by the answer as he thought she would be. "You haven't really seen us do anything other than help you. Forget I said anything." She nodded ahead. "Looks like we're here." Her eyes tipped up toward the sky, which had begun to turn red as the sun set. "Not an hour too soon as well."

The trees gave way to golden fields long before they reached the village. The wheat was growing tall, almost four feet in some places. The road toward the village itself cut through the fields with wooden fencing on either side to keep people out. Over those, wooden windmills could be heard gently creaking away, their sails turning slowly in the evening air.

Idyllic. Peaceful. Jaune smiled as they walked down the road toward a village constructed mostly of wood with smoke coiling up from chimneys. It was more colourful than he'd expected, the wood painted bright shades of pink, cream and grey. The rooftops were made from clay and a bright pinkish-red to match. The wooden wall around it led to a gate with the heavy doors pulled open.

The singular man watching from the nearby tower saw them coming and let them go past, leaning on the railing beside a bronze bell with his attention focused on the road behind. No one at the gate challenged them. Jaune and Blake entered the village with their hoods up and packs slung on their backs.

It was late, perhaps seven or eight, and many of the people had clearly decided it was time to be home. Though some of the pathways were cobbled in stone, large patches of Sarana were mud and grass, the former tramped flat so it was hard and baked. The gateway led to a small round plaza that might have made for a village market or gathering area. Houses peeked back in either direction, while a larger building with a large sign over the door and numerous flower baskets hanging from the rafters stood opposite them. The windows were brightly lit and plenty of noise came from within.

"That must be the inn," Blake said, moving ahead. "Come on. I wouldn't mind some hot food for a change."

"As long as it's not fish."

Blake swayed into him, knocking her hip into his and nearly tripping him. The look on her face said it was a complete accident and any suspicion otherwise was mindless paranoia on his part. Chuckling, Jaune chased after her, one hand on his hood to keep it up.

"You sure they won't recognise me?"

"The posters can't have been out long. Keep your hair hidden. It's the most distinctive part of you and no one is going to recognise your face unless they get up and stare at it for a few seconds." Blake tugged her own hood up. "Let me do the talking."

The inn was called the Lonely Badger and featured black and white stripes rising up two poles on either side of the door. It was honestly a lot nicer than the inns he was used to seeing in Ansel, what with the flowers and the bright colour everywhere. When Blake opened the front entrance and stepped inside, they walked into a homely and warm building with plenty of chatter, the smell of beef thick in the air and a roaring fire off by the hearth, tables set around it with people talking away and drinking.

A bar at the back was relatively abandoned by the clientele, only four or five people drinking there while two workers – a large and portly man with grey hair and a young woman of some twenty years with dark brown hair – behind it. Given how small the village was, they were probably father and daughter with the inn a family business.

Blake approached the bar and waited for the man to come over with a warm smile. "Evening. Travellers, is it?"

"Yes. We're on our way east toward the coast and need somewhere to stay. Do you have room available?"

"Of course! We get few enough people coming to stay with the city so close." He gestured around the inn. "Make most of our custom serving the farmers here. I've a room with a double bed if you're together, or two singles if not."

"We'll take the singles please. How much?"

"Two hundred for the night. Three if you want dinner and breakfast thrown in."

Blake paid the extra without question and the man took it, counting briefly before shouting, "Mara. Come and show our guests to their rooms. If you want to come back down and eat, I'll have dinner made up for ya. It's beef and ale pie with mashed potato and veg. Any allergies to speak of?"

"None here. Adam?"

Jaune jumped when Blake's foot kicked his. Right. Fake name. "I'm fine with anything."

The man's daughter, Mara, hurried over with a tired but happy smile, lifting a section of the bar to slip out and greet them. Giving one final order of drinks to a customer at the bar, she gestured for them to follow her up the narrow staircase to the first floor.

The walls were a continuation of the white and black of the inn's namesake, with the walls plastered white and beams of wood criss-crossing here and there in stark black. It gave the place a rural feel, like it'd been built a hundred or more years ago. The floorboards creaked but not ominously, and the rooms were well lit and rather nicely furnished.

"This is the main bathroom here," she said, "And your room is two down from it." Mara opened the door and stepped in, letting them enter behind. As promised, there were two comfortable looking beds, several spare cushions and pillows, a pair of thick sheep's wool blankets and several fragrant potted plants to make the place feel more alive. "I hope you like your rooms. If you have any problems, feel free to ask me or my father. His name is Mikkael, by the way."

"They're nice rooms," Jaune said. "Really nice."

"Thank you! Mikkael inherited the place from his great-grandpa and I'll inherit it from him. It's a family business."

"It's obvious he cares about the place," Blake remarked, swinging her back down by one of the chairs. "I have a question, though. If you don't mind." She reached up to draw down her hood, revealing her black hair and feline ears.

Mara's eyes widened but she didn't react negatively. "Oh, you're both faunus?"

"We are," Blake lied. "We normally keep that hidden – it's easier that way. Do you know what the general sentiment is for us would be in Sarana?"

"Most people won't care. My pa certainly doesn't and would tan my hide if I ever said anything nasty about it as well. But I can't promise everyone would be the same." Mara bit her lip and glanced to the window, presumably indicating the farmland outside.

"Would it be okay if we kept our hoods up downstairs? Just to avoid causing a scene."

"Oh, of course! I'll tell my pa so he doesn't think it odd."

Blake smiled. "Thank you."

The door closed behind her as she left, letting Jaune pull down his own hood and shake his hair free. He ran a hand through it and scratched the itch he'd been wanting to ever since they arrived. "I wondered what you were doing for a moment there," he said.

"Just an idea I had. It worked. We'll be able to stay hooded downstairs and no one will think anything of it."

"Do faunus often have to do that?"

"No." Blake chuckled. "But I figured a girl from a small village living outside the walls wouldn't know better. Some places discriminate, but you see that more inside the cities than outside. People out here have enough problems to deal with without antagonising someone for being faunus. More often than not, they'll just offer bad service or refuse to serve you at all. Causing a bigger scene than that is bad for business."

"You'd think those in the city would be better educated…"

"They probably are, but it's easier to sway intelligent people sometimes." Blake sat on one of the beds and spent a few moments sorting her hair out. It gave him the time to work his boots off and massage some feeling back into his toes. "My father always said it's the rich who push ideals, either to hate faunus or to push certain agendas. Those people live in the cities, and it's easier to sway people when you have all the amenities like newspapers, TV and billboards. No one has time for that out here. If you can work a field, you're a valued member of the village no matter what you look like. He always used Jacques Schnee as an example of that."

Ansel didn't have faunus problems either, to the point that he'd not even known how bad it could be – so maybe Blake was right. It might have also had something to do with how crowded the cities were, or how comparatively easy life was there. When you had more free time on hand, you could use that time however you wanted, even if that was to be a racist.

"Right." Blake yawned and cracked her neck, then stood and patted herself down. "Shall we go down and get something to eat and drink? We'll probably not get a chance like this for a long time."

A part of him felt like he should be against the idea, that he should push for them to focus on his sisters and nothing else, but there was no point forcing such misery. They were here for the night and bound to meet Adam again tomorrow, so how they wanted to use that time was their own choice and would have no bearing on his family.

"Sure." He drew his hood back up. "Sounds like fun."

/-/

Mikkael came to their table not five minutes after they'd taken it by the far window, away from most of the other guests and at a table for two with a view outside.

The huge man came over with stacked plates of food for them and a fervent promise that if anyone – "and I mean anyone!" – tried to cause them trouble for being faunus, he'd personally toss them out on their arses, regular or not! He said it loudly as a message for those nearby, which might have been concerning if they really were faunus.

As it was, it gave them the perfect excuse to keep their hoods up and ensured no one would think them weird for it. A few people nodded knowingly, smart enough to figure it out, and while one or two did sneer their way, they didn't look hateful enough to do anything more than that. After putting the food down along with a large pot of steaming gravy and two barley ales, Mikkael went back to work behind the bar.

The food was incredible. Mikkael knew his way around a kitchen! The beef cuts glistened, and the meat was tender and soft, with the kind of freshness you could only get from food sourced local. Given where they were, it was quite possibly literally delivered from farm to fork. Jaune dug in, and while Blake initially disparaged at his manners, soon she was tearing in like she'd not eaten in weeks.

That seemed to win over the other patrons, who decided that suspicious or not, if they liked good food, they couldn't be bad people.

The ale was a little harder to swallow. Literally. It was also fresh and no doubt homemade, which meant it had a bitty taste and a kick like a horse to the face. Blake wheezed and even he had to pat his chest after the first sip. At sixteen, he'd not tasted a lot of alcohol, but his parents had let him try some small amount of wine and beer in the past, just sips, and Hazel and Jade had also gotten him drunk once by accident when they were meant to be babysitting him. Most of that booze had been acrid and bitter, and while this was no less so, it was also a little more earthy.

Mikkael brought them some dessert after, toffee fudge cake with cream or custard and an offer of a fresh top up of drinks, which Blake refused. "I'll go have my shower after this and get ready for bed. You stay for another drink and come up after for yours."

"Huh. Oh, sure thing. Will twenty minutes be enough?"

Blake smiled gratefully and slid her chair back. "It will. Thanks."

It wasn't a big deal. Seven sisters made holiday arrangements awkward and since most rooms were doubles, it always meant he bunked with one of the girls, usually Saphron, but then Amber and Lavender once Saph and Terra became an item. As such, he was used to working around sharing a room with a girl and splitting time for showers and getting dressed.

Mikkael came back with another drink and took their empty dessert plates away. "Was it good?"

"Incredible, Mikkael. You're an amazing chef."

"Ha! Learned from my wife. You think mine is good, you should try hers. Shame she's off visiting relatives in Vacuo. Mara wanted to go with her, but I needed the help." He put another mug of ale down and headed back, calling for Mara to work the kitchen.

Jaune sipped the ale with a silent smile, coughing briefly as it hit him a second time. Ironically enough, he didn't think he'd be able to get drunk of it simply because it would take a stomach more iron than his to drink that much!

"Strong, isn't it?"

The chair Blake had vacated scraped back and a man sat down across the table from him. Black hair streaked with grey, an angular face and a faint beard along his jawline to a goatee, the man was older than him by a fair bit, maybe even twice his age. The outfit didn't match Sarana either. A white and grey shirt-jacket combo with the sleeves drawn up to the elbow and a black collar leading around to a red cape of all things. The man's shirt had the top buttons popped, showing a generous amount of chest and a small silver cross hanging from a leather cord.

"You don't get booze like this in the cities," he said in a voice like rock being dragged over gravel. "They water it down, treat it and fill it with so many chemicals it tastes like piss. This is the real stuff. Homegrown and strong enough to put hair on your chest."

Jaune agreed nervously, sipping and watching the man over the rim of the mug. Why had he approached him? Who was he? Obviously not a farmer with that outfit. Stay calm. I've got my hood up and he can only really see my nose and jaw. No one's going to figure out who I am from just that.

"I'm not really used to beer," Jaune said.

"Ale, kid. Ale. Calling this beer is like calling a sheep a cow."

"Isn't it all made from the same stuff?"

"Okay, fine, it's like calling a burger a steak. The difference is in how it's brewed." The man slapped the mug down and sighed happily. "It's in the preparation, not to mention the taste. Whoo! I've travelled all over the world and not tasted food or drink this good."

Now that was something he could agree with. "I know. The food here is better than back home."

"Farm fresh, kid. Farm fresh. The locals must get first pick of the harvest while the cheap stuff is shipped to Mistral and Vale for supermarkets. And these guys probably know how to pick out the good stuff."

"Hm. You're not from around here, then?" Jaune asked.

"I was originally, but that was years ago. Almost twenty years. I live in Vale now."

Vale. Three members of his family had been sent there, though he hadn't done anything in the Kingdom yet. That meant this person shouldn't have reason to recognise him. Jaune relaxed a little, sipping some more ale.

"What about you, kid?"

"Adam," he lied. "I'm travelling with a friend of mine." Because Blake had already said they were faunus, he felt safe adding, "We're on our way to Menagerie."

"East coast, huh?"

"Yeah. How about you…?"

"Qrow. Qrow Branwen." The man smiled cheekily. "And I'm out here looking for someone. Son of an old friend of mine who passed away a while ago. I want to make sure the kid's safe – maybe offer a little advice and a way out."

Jaune's breathing quickened. "Oh? What's the person's name?"

"One that's not exactly safe to be throwing around out here. My friend's name was Nicholas, though. A good huntsman out from Vale who ran into trouble." The man – the huntsman, he realised – was looking at him pityingly, all the while Jaune tried hard not to lock up. "We thought he was killed by Grimm along with his family, but recent news paints a different picture."

"I-I've never heard of him."

"Hm. I'm sure you haven't." Qrow sat back and took another drink. "If I was him, I'd not be quick to trust people either, especially after what happened."

Jaune's hand touched the knife under his cloak. His eyes flickered, varying colours swirling in as Null took hold. Across from him, the man's scroll beeped. The sound startled them both, but more so the man who peeked down at it and paled.

"I'm not here to fight."

It's telling him his aura is at zero, he realised. As a huntsman, his scroll was set to monitor and report his aura levels. That also meant the scroll had as good as sold him out, confirming who he was and what his Semblance was.

Jaune tensed.

"I'm not here to fight," Qrow said again, "But I can tell I'm putting you on edge. That's fine. I'll go." He stood very slowly, pushing the chair back and keeping his hands visible. "But let me give you a quick bit of advice, Adam. There are people who would help you. People who have your best interests in heart. The ones you're currently with are not that. They're dangerous."

The White Fang were dangerous? This Huntsman was dangerous – perhaps even more so. Five million lien for him alive and two and a half dead. It had to be tempting, even for him. Maybe it was paranoia; maybe he was wrong; after everything that had gone on so far, he didn't have it in him to trust the kindness of a stranger.

"You don't trust me, I get that, but let me win that a little. There are two bounty hunters on the way here." He whispered it and Jaune tensed. "They're huntsmen out of Mistral. No one in Sarana tipped them off because they started moving early yesterday. A team of four but split into two teams of two. One is on their way to Sarana and the other is headed to Yuroka, a village just like this one but on the southern edge of the city."

Sarana was on the northern border, which meant the team had predicted his path? How? No, it was obvious. In hindsight, he couldn't have gone anywhere near the city so it would have made sense to stick to small villages. They also knew he was with the White Fang and that he'd fled Atlas toward Mistral's north coast.

It wasn't hard to assume he was en route to Menagerie, home of the White Fang, or that he'd have to pass near Mistral to get there, Menagerie being south-east of Anima. He had to cross from the north-west border to the south-east, skirting Mistral as he went.

They were wrong – his goal wasn't Menagerie but the next hidden facility – but they were right enough to guess his route.

"They're a little behind schedule," Qrow said. "A little bird tells me they ran into some bad luck and got delayed." His grin said he was responsible. "So the two of you have time to stay tonight if you want to, but if I were you, I'd get yourself gone before morning."

"And what's to say you're not leading us into a trap?"

"Nothing. I can't offer you any proof, other than to say I knew Nick and I want the bastards behind his death brought to justice just as much as you."

He wanted to believe that. He really wanted to believe it.

"I don't believe you."

He couldn't.

"I know, kid. Don't even blame you." He stepped back, hands still visible at his sides. "I've said my piece, said all I can. Tell your little friend about me. I don't mind if you do. Just be ready to leave early tomorrow if you don't tonight."

The moment the huntsman left, Jaune rushed to their room.

/-/

Blake paced the room, hair wet from the shower and dressed in a simple sleeping gown. She'd been getting ready for bed when he returned, but that was forgotten now. Even as undressed as she was, she had Gambol Shroud in hand and had yanked the curtains shut to conceal them.

"What do we do?"

"I don't know!" Blake snapped at him. "This… Argh. How did he recognise you so easily? No, he must have seen us before and tracked us, but how? We only stuck to the path for the last two hundred metres or so, once we reached the fields."

"If what he said about the bounty hunters is true, he might have guessed."

"Possibly. Looking back, it was obvious we'd have to do this. Adam must have known, but he probably thought we'd have an easier time slipping through with just the two of us. The huntsmen will be looking for a large group of faunus, not two travellers."

"Do we leave now?" he asked.

"No. We could be walking into an ambush."

"But Qrow knows where we're sleeping. What's to say he won't attack us here?"

"Nothing." Blake looked as agitated as he felt. "But if I have to pick between him being forced to attack the inn and us expecting it, or being ambushed on the road with no warning, I'll take the inn. He'd cause a ruckus and we'd have some warning."

"What if they hurt Mikkael and Mara?"

"They're huntsman, Jaune. We're the terrorists, remember?"

Oh. Right. Presumably, they were the ones who were meant to show no regard for the safety of the villagers, while the huntsmen would need to avoid any damage. With that in mind, they'd probably not attack the inn at all. They'd just keep watch, wait for the two of them to leave Sarana, and then attack them in an open area where they didn't have to worry about hostages. Even so, he didn't think he'd be able to sleep easy and said as much.

"We'll have to take shifts," she said. "Belief or not, we'll take his advice and leave before dawn. You take first watch. My night vision will be more useful on the second. It's nine now, so wake me up at one and you can sleep until five."

Four hours. And after he'd been so happy to see a warm, soft bed.

Damn huntsmen.

"Okay. Do I just wake you if I see anything?"

"Shout, scream or shake me," she said, crawling into bed but keeping Gambol Shroud close. "I don't think they'll try anything, but it doesn't hurt to be safe. We'll lose them tomorrow. They expect us to skirt around the wall and stay close. We'll travel further out. I can always patch into the CCT and get a message to Adam to meet us at a different rendezvous. We'll be okay."

"And if we're not…?"

"They're huntsmen from Mistral; they don't know why Atlas wants you so bad. If they attack us, we'll survive the first strike thanks to aura. With your Semblance, the same can't be said for them and out counter-attack."

Bloodshed. They'd have no hope. All their training and all their expertise would mean so little in the face of a single gunshot from Blake and a momentary release of Null. Jaune swallowed, nodded and took his seat by the window, drawing the curtains back to peer out toward the gates of Sarana.

On a rooftop nearby, a crow preened its feathers, watching.


I know Qrow is meant to be a very strong huntsman in Vale. I think Ozpin refers to him as Vale's strongest huntsmen, but since no one recognised him when he was introduced by Ruby in Season 3, I assume he's not well-known for it, and certainly not to Blake or Jaune.


Next Chapter: 13th April

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