Hello there reader! Welcome to the 21st chapter of 'The Darkling Thrush'! Today we're starting a new arc! Woo!

As always I'd like to thank those who left a review on the last chapter. Thank you jin0uga, The Novice Storyteller, Baoh joestar, Guest #1, Inquistor Czevak, Guest #2 and Bagration! Your comments were quite flattering and I'm glad to know you all are enjoying the story. I can't say it enough how awesome you all are.

This chapter would've been out sooner, but I wasn't happy with the first couple of drafts. Would you believe these go through several revisions? There was a part I cut out about Russel using 'Cauliflower' as a synonym to a swear word. I liked the joke but I felt it detracted from the flow. But anyways, enough with my yapping on with the chapter!

XXI

Who Dares Wins: Part 1

There were four nations in the world of Remnant. A couple of islands here and there, some of which no doubt remain undiscovered while others were annexed after they all started cutting up territory. But of those four nations, without a doubt the greatest of them all had to be Vale of all places. Or at least it was to Russel.

Now it would seem a little bias of an opinion, seeing as Russel had never even left the country before in his life. But he'd definitely seen what Vale had to offer. He'd read in morning papers about social discord in countries like Vacuo and he'd seen the riots in Mistral on the television back in Beacon. Atlas on the other hand was a completely different story. A military regime that rose up from the ashes of a depression riddled Mantle, home to the Schnee Dust Corporation and a forerunner in military warfare, the country just worried Russel.

Vale's capitol was a captivating display of neon lights from afar. He'd heard whispers of a town called Venezier off by the coast where at nights you could sail through an ocean of stars. And aside from the occasional radicalized White Fang butcher taking to the streets to preach his political views, everyone was pretty much on the same page. And Russel knew this from experience. Nobody likes racists.

But Vale was not all streets paved in gold, it had its hiccups. When Russel had first left Oakwood it was for a better tomorrow. Today on the airship ride over he remained silent while his teammates engaged in conversation. Professor Port spun a tale about his golden years, when he was in his prime like how he always did back in school. Dove wouldn't shut up about that Cindy chick from Mistral, citing she had the most beautiful eyes he'd ever seen. Sky was too interested in Port's tale. And Cardin was barely following along, still reeling from his own personal dilemmas back at Beacon.

Team CRDL's first proper mission as Huntsmen wasn't taking them to Mt. Glenn or under the ruins of a ransacked and forgotten settlement. No, their destination was Oakwood, Russel's hometown. Oakwood was nothing more than over glorified farmland. The local combat school was underfunded and outdated. The only people who could possibly compare such a place to the city of Vale and its captivating neon night life were the retired Huntsmen who lived there.

If there was any point to Russel's musings, from his critiques on foreign powers and the beauty of his home country, the last thing he wanted was to wind back home in Oakwood. He'd been frowning all the way since their departure from Beacon. And he'd continue to frown once the airship reached the drop off point.

The metallic marvel of human engineering began to descend into a small clearing some ways outside of town. There were forests to the north and farm land everywhere else. Team CRDL and Professor Port disembarked from the ship with their gear in tow and began the long trek into town. The airship took back into the air, it would return either in the next four days or, in the eventuality that their mission ran short, would come running after a call from Port. It all really depended on how things went.

The field they were dropped off at was mainly covered in small patches of dead grass. It was an odd sight to be sure, after all, Russel was familiar with the clearing. Oakwood was a tight community, all the kids would get together and play ball out here. Sometimes it was kickball, other times it was baseball. It all really depended on whether or not they actually had a ball. More than often they just used an empty tin can.

Farmers don't make as much money as one would think. Only the big company sponsored farms like Marlowe's made any real money. It was awfully kind of the old man to buy the Thrush farm off of Russel when he did. That was something Russel would never forget.

Russel smirked to himself as the five Huntsmen made the five mile long trek into town. Maybe while he was in town, Russel might be afforded the chance to drop in and say hello. The old man had been kind enough to help Russel out before, especially with the death of his Father, the least he could do was check in on him.

"Ugh. How much further?" Dove grumbled as he lugged along a backpack full of his belongings.

"You should've packed light, my boy!" Port exclaimed in response to Dove's complaints. "I remember when I was your age, I'd made the same mistake on my first mission too! Ha! What an exciting day that was!" Port recalled happily. "That day I killed my first Grimm! It was me and the beast, one on one. It swung first, but I swung faster! And off its head came, rolling off its shoulders while its large body fell before my feet! What a day!" Port laughed.

The Professor then went on a long tangent about his years as a Huntsman. Russel liked Port, there were endearing qualities to the man, but his get sidetracked by recollections of the past always caused him to roll his eyes. In the normal school setting Russel would desperately try to get the discussion back on topic and would mostly succeed, but then Port would find a way to talk about arm wrestling an Ursa.

"…And then I tossed off my tatter shirt and engaged in unarmed combat with the beast!" Port declared jollily. Because this wasn't the usual class setting of Beacon, Russel didn't feel the need to attempt to redirect Port's attention back to the task at hand. So the boy just zoned out.

And then just like that time began to pass Russel by. Before he knew it they were taking their first steps into town. For the most part the place hadn't changed in the some five months Russel had spent away. But there was one huge difference Russel noticed immediately. As they began walking through town, Russel realized Oakwood Academy had been closed down.

"Hey, check it out." Sky pointed in the direction of the combat school Russel had attended before Beacon. In front of the school's lawn was a large sign and in red letter is read 'Condemned'.

"Hey Russel, you lived here before right?" Cardin asked, the sight of the school probably reminded him of when the four boys went on their team building adventure to the Crow Bar. "Any chance this the school you transferred out of?"

"Oh yeah." Russel muttered as he looked at the boarded up school. By the looks of it, Oakwood Academy was closed up only recently. It wasn't a huge loss, Russel thought bitterly. The young Thrush thought of his days attending the combat school, how the students worked together to get out of learning and how they'd rather get involved with the social scene. The facilities were old, out of date and in need of a good remodeling.

Russel thought of the library, how the stacks were covered in dust and how students would sneak kisses among other things inside. The management of the whole thing was so terrible Russel could get away with making off with the few half way decent books they had. That was Russel's education. He'd fend for himself, steal knowledge from where ever he could and when it came time to take tests and do homework he'd excel at it. Not because of the school and its teachers, but because he chose to.

One of the things they'd tried to teach him, back then, was to manifest an aura. They could've had a trained professional come around and do it for them like sane reasonable folk. But there wasn't a professional amongst them. They through caged Grimm at you to see if you could do it on your own.

That last thought got Russel thinking, about the Grimm that were caged and left to wallow in darkness beneath the school's open field. The young Thrush hoped that they'd gotten around to killing them all on the way out. Because with that faculty, they probably would've left them caged up forever. That presented a problem, leaving Grimm unchecked, wallowing beneath everyone's homes. They five of them were here in response to Grimm sightings. Who knows, maybe the caged up Grimm were the ones running around. Even more reason for Russel to hate Oakwood.

But only time would tell if his assumptions were correct. They were going to be here for a while and they were going to get to the bottom of this. So Russel pushed his concerns to the back of his mind and continued on, following Port's lead just like the rest of his team. They pressed on further into the heart of the town.

The five Huntsmen began to pass by the local Inn, a place where all the drifters and out of towners, always big company guys in suits checking in on their investments would stay there. Port stopped in his tracks. He turned and looked at the Inn. The expression on his face prominently shown the gears in his head turning.

"In normal circumstances, we Huntsmen would be roughing it in the woods." Port said as he continued to eye the vacancy sign out front. "But seeing there's a perfectly good Inn here in town, I don't see why we should take advantage of the situation." Port said in a sly manner. He dug into his back pocket and withdrew his wallet, holding it up for Team CRDL to see. "It'll be my treat."

"Oh sweet!" Dove exclaimed, though slightly tired from the walk over into town, the youngest member of Team CRDL could help but sound excited. At the end of it, such accommodations meant there would be warm water and a bed to sleep on instead of the ground. They'd have four walls instead of being out in the open and easy targets for Grimm. It was the best possible option.

As no one spoke up or complained, Port led the way into the Inn and sent the boys off to the side while he spoke to the young woman managing the front desk. With Port preoccupied, this finally gave Team CRDL the chance to discuss matter amongst themselves without any form of authority listening in on them.

"What do you guys think so far?" Cardin said, quickly taking charge of the conversation. The burnt orange haired boy looked to his teammates, only to find Dove and Sky give rather indifferent responses. For the most part, Dove was just glad to not have to sleep on the ground again. Sky was rather unimpressed by the architecture. He cited the lack of imagination when it came to designing the homes. For the most part they were all cookie cutter buildings with a simple one floor layout.

Cardin then turned to his partner, looking for Russel to chime in with his two cents. As Russel had lived in Oakwood before, it was only natural to assume he'd have more to say on the matter. "Don't you have family here, Russel?" Cardin asked. "I remember you mentioned your dad back in the Crow Bar. Maybe you might get the chance to pop in and surprise him."

"Don't worry Cardin." Russel muttered. "It's on my list of things to do."

"Come on boys I've got the rooms!" Port shouted from over at the front desk. The rather portly man held a trio of room keys up in the air and waved them around. Team CRDL gathered their things and were off into the Inn.

Port had gotten three rooms, there were five of them. Port himself would have a room to himself while the others divided up into the other rooms. Dove and Sky grabbed the room across the hall while Russel and Cardin took the one with a window. Port had given them two hours to get situated, then they'd head out and check the town perimeter and see if they could find some Grimm.

Neither Russel nor Cardin had brought much along for the mission, only the bare essentials. Between the two of them they had ten ration packs as well as a small water supply. They each brought one change of clothes and most importantly, they had their weapons.

Cardin removed his mace from his duffel bag and placed it on his bed, the one that was closest to the window. The Winchester boy then set his things aside and took a seat on the bed while he performed weapon maintenance. Russel on the other hand left his daggers in his bag and began to head for the door.

"You heading out?" Cardin asked, sounding not at all surprised at the action.

"I'm going to go and see my dad." Russel said simply before grabbing one of the two room keys. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

"Alright." Cardin nodded before returning to cleaning his weapon with one of the towels in the bathroom.

Russel left the room, shutting the door behind him. He walked out of the Inn and couldn't help but notice the Inn Keeper had been scowling at him. The young Thrush gave a look over his shoulder over at the Inn Keeper and studied her features more carefully. He didn't know her, but apparently she knew him. That usually didn't bode well in his experience.

So Russel made himself scarce and left the Inn. Back on the town's main road, Russel began to backtrack down the way they'd came. He passed by Oakwood Academy and soon found himself taking the path he'd normally take on his way home from school.

He passed by the local tavern, the same old drunks were in there loading up when it wasn't even five. There were a couple of new faces amongst the lot, some guys Russel had gone to school with. Not everyone went on to Beacon, some stayed and got rooted into the farming gig like their family. Others probably got rejected and now wasted away at the counter calling for the bartender for another drink. Those boys were all Russel's age, but it didn't surprise him to find them there. After all, Russel knew very well that the bartender didn't even have a license.

Russel kept on walking and passed by the Cherri residence. That reminded Russel, he still owed Marie-Anne for her part in having him tied up to that flagpole the other day. A part of Russel thought for a moment about claiming his vengeance by messing with her folks. But it was Marie-Anne who had earned his wrath, not her parents. So Russel kept his pace, never stopping, never looking back, never again would he let that thought creep back into his head.

He then came upon a fork in the road, one that he knew very well. His muscle memory urged him to take the right path back home, to the Thrush farm. But that was gone by now, he'd sold it to Marlowe and in turn he'd probably demolished it to fully integrate the land with his own. There was nothing down that path for Russel, so he took a left. And waiting for him was a hill in a graveyard where his Father was buried.

There were no gates at Saint Jack's, just a large patch of grass and a sea of gravestones. Russel quietly walked through the markers, paying mind to the fact that the layout of the place meant there was no official walkway, so the young Thrush was forced to step on the ground where men and women were buried beneath.

Eventually Russel trudged up a hill beside a tree and there it was, his Father's grave. Russel stood there silently for a moment, carefully watching the gravestone as if it were going to jump at him. But it did no such thing.

"Hey Dad." Russel greeted the mute gray marker. The young Thrush sighed. Just what the hell was he expecting? Did he honestly think there'd be a reply? "I'm back." He muttered.

There had been too much left unsaid between them, Russel and his Father. The elder Thrush had taken to calling his son 'Killer' in memory of his mother, who died in childbirth. Russel had been called that for longer than he could remember and it was only recently until he understood the exact measure of pain that the old man truly bore.

Russel's chats with Ozpin had been enlightening, the Beacon Headmaster had informed the boy all about his mother and her time in Beacon. Russel's mother's name was Alba Stross. The whole bird thing got a good laugh at out of the boy the first time when he'd heard it. But Russel wasn't laughing now.

"I think I finally understand you. Rather, I finally understand who you were." The young Thrush somberly said. "She was your everything and you hated me for her death." A sigh escaped Russel's lips. If he'd ever done so in his Father's presence before, he'd be smacked for such a sign of disrespect. Thankfully the man couldn't do that anymore, after all, he was dead. "Is that where your mantra came from? 'No one's going to give you anything'? That's what you'd drill into my head every day. Is it because your son killed the woman you loved?"

"Maybe I'm overthinking your reasons. Maybe you were just as much a cruel bastard as you were to begin with." Russel spoke darkly. "But I know that's not true." Russel's mother hadn't been the only one he'd asked Ozpin about. The gray haired Headmaster had also told him of his father.

"Ozpin said you used to smile. That was something you never did around me. He also said he was proud to have known you. He said you were brave, a man with ethics one whom he himself looked up to." Russel shook his head in disgust. "I had to bite my tongue during our discussions. I didn't know how to tell the man what kind of monster you'd become."

Nobody's going to give you anything. Russel could hear his Father saying those words to him now. "I just came by to say hello." Russel sighed before turning his back to his Father's grave. "I guess I'll be seeing you. Not like you're going anywhere. Bye Dad." And with that, Russel walked off down the hill and began to head back to the Inn.

Not too far away, hidden by vast tree line of the surrounding forest, stood a tall man with a facial scar around the side of his bald head resembling Ursa claw marks. He wore a large tan coat that concealed the white and black robes beneath. His dark cargo pants and metal padded boots were coated in dirt and ash, seemingly unwashed in what must've been weeks.

The man whose true name was forgotten stared at Russel, watching him menacingly as the young Thrush departed the cemetery. The man knew Russel, after all, the boy was the reason he now bore the scar left behind by that Ursa. For a long while he'd been wishing to repay Russel for the unpleasantness of that night, however, the boy's absence from Oakwood had robbed him of the chance.

But now it seemed their paths would cross once more. And so, The Iron Nail turned to leave back into the forest. The time to spill blood would rear itself shortly, but for now he had to prepare, there was too much to hide and so little time. The appearance of Huntsmen was a troubling sight as they would no doubt interfere. For the sake of The White Fang, its prosperity and its business ventures with an unnamed woman with burning eyes, The Iron Nail could not lose Oakwood. And so he would not.

For those who remember, The Iron Nail is a member of the White Fang I introduced all the way back in chapter 4. He's the guy Russel got his daggers from in the first place. He got mentioned by Blake sometime in Arc 3, I forget the specific chapter. So he's important.I was debating whether to name Russel's mother, but I decided to eventually. His Father will remain unnamed for the time being, but his mother Alba Stross is just another way to say Albatross. I felt that the name was fitting. After all, sailors who killed an Albatross were made to wear the bird around their neck for the whole voyage. You could make the connections with Russel and the death of his mother at your leisure. I thought it was clever.

Well, next chapter will be out sometime soon, I don't have an exact date. Who knows, it might be Sunday could be Tuesday.

'Til then dear Reader! Later days!