One day, the Knight embraced his title, wearing shining white armor from head to toe,
They say a legendary smith was the maker,
The one who owned the forge in the Powdered Volcano.
Jaune Arc was in the market for some new equipment. Specifically, armor. The reason why would be apparent if one looked at him for a couple of moments and noticed the broken white metal chestplate Jaune was carrying. It served its purpose in protecting him from a fatal blow, but it also meant that it was now unusable as armor. And he was really looking forward to getting it repaired. The way he got it damaged in the first place was pretty banal, it was a beowolf strike he didn't fully protect that his armor took the damage for. And the reason he was fighting a beowolf was because he was doing a job for the town he was visiting. It was a place near the snowy mountain range of Sanus, though the town itself was in the greener areas. Jaune came by on a whim, finding it beautiful from a distance and curiosity getting the better of him.
The village he was in was called Pitside. It was a nice place, a bit small but homey. It was on a small clearing on the lower mountains that did a lot of sheep herding and farming, because importing food was too much of a hassle. It was a community of around a hundred people or so with minimal infrastructure. It was also a majority Faunus community that rarely got visitors, especially visiting hunters. Their local hunter and sheriff was a man by the name of Tils, who wielded a mechashift double sided spear-bow. And like any visitor, he got curious glances at first.
He was, after all, a random huntsman with a sword who just came into town for no reason.
"Thanks for the pie, Mrs. Cormwick!" They were also fairly friendly after he established himself to be friendly and helpful. Well, a few of the married men seemed to be distrustful of him for some reason, but he didn't know anything about that. Seriously, he had spent more time helping around Pitside than actually clearing out the Grimm.
He was also attracting some looks, what with the tear in his armor also going into his clothes. He'd have to stitch it up later. But right now? He needed something to eat. He had to expend a lot of energy in order to complete the mission that had his armor torn up and was looking to get a good meal at the local tavern. So, sitting on an out of place metal stool, he picked up the menu for the place.
"What'll you be having, stranger?" The bartender was a young owl Faunus whose hair were white feathers whose edges were all meticulously colored black. He could also turn his head a full 180 degrees, which he did as a party trick for the stranger as he made his meal with his hands behind his back, quite literally.
"Glazed lamb chops." Really, that was the only meat on the menu. That and venison. But Jaune was, as he's stated before, pragmatic. And venison was wild game, which meant it was more expensive than the domesticated and more populous sheep and goats of Pitside.
"Stranger-" The bartender had an odd habit of calling him that, even though practically the entire town knew his name by then. "-What's with your showing of the goods? Can't say I don't appreciate, but is there a special occasion?" The smile the bartender had on them wasn't emblematic of someone clearly faking it, but it wasn't entirely natural either. There was an odd unsettling quality to their smile that Jaune couldn't place. Ignoring that, Jaune decided to answer the question.
"Ah, my armor got ripped up. These guys have served my family well and, I guess they need some repair." Jaune shrugged. "And while I know how to maintain stuff, I'm not exactly a blacksmith." Jaune shrugged. "Well, not too upset over it. It did its duty in protecting me." Jaune thumped on his chest with a carefree smile, though honestly he almost had a heart attack when his armor had been ripped up. The bartender put a hand to their chin and hummed in thought for a bit before snapping.
"Ah, I know who you'll want to look for!"
"Hmmm?"
"Do you know of the Chorus blade?" Jaune shook his head. "Sid's Sunmace?" Jaune shook his head, again. "The Baron? Hell's to Pay? Smokey Cloud?" No, no, and definitely not. "Well, these weapons all have one thing in common. I take it you don't know what that is?"
"I'm not really a 'weapon history' sort of guy, sorry."
"It's of no trouble. They were all made by Fior Marlon. She's a living legend, known for every piece of hers being unique and having her name signed on them, on top of being top of the line in quality. The Chorus Blade was able to steal blood with its slashes and use them as projectiles. The Sunmace head was able to detach and begin glowing like the sun itself. And the list goes on and on. If you need someone to make you some armor, Fior Marlon is your woman. And just your luck! She lives right here." Jaune nodded, thoroughly intrigued. This was part of the reason he left home, after all. To see the world, meet new people, and all that business.
"Hmmmm, alright then. Where is she?" If he had the lien, Jaune might be able to get this 'Fior' person to get him some armor beyond the chestplate and shoulder pauldrons. That would be nice.
"Well, she lives on the hill with the bright red oak. Her daughter's a shepherd." Jaune took that in and nodded, getting up enthusiastically.
"Alright! Thanks for the directions!" And so he went out the door to meet the blacksmith.
"Wait, your meal!" Oh, right.
After a very embarrassing meal, Jaune made his way to the house on the hill with a bright red oak. The green grass wet with morning dew shuddered with every step he took, slicking his boots as he tried to make his way up. Its a beautiful sight, one that Jaune might not mind living in one day if it weren't for the fact that CCT connection was very spotty. Still, he goes up the hill.
At least, he tried. He tried to go up the hill, but his wet rubber boots combined with the slick green grass make it so that he slipped downwards. Somehow, his greatest enemy in trying to reach the legendary blacksmith was, in fact, gravity, a slope, and lubrication. Quite the embarrassing sight for him. Qrow would laugh his ass off while Winter would at least have the courtesy to hold it in, at least until in private, where she'd chuckle to herself at the silliness of the man who could methodically and meticulously tear down a legion of Grimm somehow failing to a fucking hill.
It was also quite the amusing sight for the small Faunus child who came up to him as he lay flat on the grass, face down, dread having built up enough to make simply giving up a very attractive alternative.
"You're funny, mister!" Avian eyes peered down at the curious sight of a warrior being conquered by grass.
"Thanks." Jaune immediately regretted speaking as he got a mouthful of wet greenery. He forced himself up before wobbling a bit on the wet floor. "How does anyone get up, anyways?"
"Why, you just walk up!" Now that Jaune wasn't staring into his eventual final destination, he got a good look at the kid who had walked up to him. Their skin was black and their eyes were avian. As was their feet and legs. It was likely that their talons allowed them to grab into the ground and climb up. Unfortunately for Jaune, he didn't have those. And he was fairly sure that trying to steal those was both ethically and practically impossible. The costs in the surgery alone would bankr- "Mister, are you ok?"
"Oh, sorry." Whoops, his mind slipped for a moment there. "Well, I guess I need some help walking up." Jaune sighed and momentarily shifted his foot before halting the movement entirely as he felt himself lose his balance.
"Sure thing, mister!" Then the young kid simply walked up the wet grassy hill with ease. Their talons sunk into the ground, the slipperiness of it not even bothering the child as they made it to the top. "See! No problem at all!" Jaune was pretty sure that even if he took off his boots, it wouldn't mean jack. Well, it wasn't like the kid could really help him, if he was being honest. So, he did the only thing he could when faced with an insurmountable enemy, he observed, he theorized, and he adapted.
"Alright kid, don't worry, I'm just going to use this to help myself up." Jaune pulled out Crocea Mors, but kept it in its sheath. He really didn't need its sharp edge, he just needed its general shape as he stabbed the sheathed blade into the ground before using it as a lever. To be quite honest, he wasn't sure what he was expecting when he slipped up a few times, sending him tumbling down to the bottom and earning a few laughs from the kid. But, after what felt like hours of effort, he finally managed to make it to the top.
"What's with all the ruckus?" And just as he thought he had finally beaten his greatest foe by far, he was sent tumbling down to the bottom in surprise when an older woman came around the side of the house. Jaune, who was a bit jumpy with all the adrenaline, hopped back in shock and, quite predictably, tumbled all the way to the bottom of the hill once more.
"I'm sorry for the trouble you faced." The old woman, who Jaune now knew to be Fior Marlon, was the grandmother of the child he had encountered. She had skin as dark as her grandchild, but she had donkey ears instead of crow appendages. The ears were old and had old burn marks on them. The clothes she wore were concealing and heavy and her hair was styled into locs that were tied up into a tail. Her eyes were befitting for someone older, experienced, watchful, and sharp because of her age, not despite it. She spoke confidently and neutrally, barely concealing her intrigue over who this stranger was.
"Nah, it's my fault for not seeing the dirt path." Yea, he was kind of a dumbass.
"Now, if you don't mind me asking, what's the traveling huntsman want with me?"
"Oh, heard of me?" Jaune chuckled sheepishly, hiding the pride at the recognition. Damn did it feel good to be called a huntsman sometimes. Fior raised an eyebrow. "Oh, was it the gear?"
"That and Janice won't shut up about you." The blacksmith rolled her eyes. "Anyways, you didn't answer my question." Fior's grandkid was off making some snacks for their guest, insisting to their grandmother despite her saying she was fit enough to whip up some light treats. Sweet kid, but even now, she still was strong enough to do simple stuff like that.
"Ah, well. Uh, I was wondering-" Her expression practically screamed 'spit it out' and Jaune sighed before getting to it. He, a total stranger, had marched over to someone's house already, why was he getting flustered here? "I was wondering if you could rep-"
"No. Not happening." Fior was adamant. Her eyes were steely. "I'm retired, simple as that. You won't be getting anything out of me. No money, sweet talk, or threat will make me go back." Jaune was silent for a moment, searching in her eyes to see any hint of a crack in her resolve. He found none. And it wasn't like he had lien to offer, or a tongue made of pure enough silver to convince her, and he sure as hell wasn't threatening this lady.
"Everything alright there?" The kid asked from the kitchen, to which his grandmother replied.
"Nothing, sweetie!" She sighed and turned back to Jaune. He took the hint and sighed, well, it wasn't like he couldn't get it repaired at his next stop.
"Alright, I'll leave. Sorry to bother you." He turned to his side and got up, only for Marlon to practically do a spit take when she got a good look at the sword on his hip.
"Wait!" Jaune froze.
"Are you sure you're alright granny!?" Marlon realized how loud she had been, but didn't backtrack.
"It's fine! Just almost dropped something." She replied cooly, which seemed to satisfy the grandchild. She turned to Jaune and her gaze hardened, specifically focusing on his sword. "Alright boy, I need to ask you something." Well, ask away, he conveyed in a nod and accepting look. "What is the name of that sword?"
"Crocea Mors."
"Forged by Helios Arc?" Jaune nodded. "Passed down to Arthur Arc?" Jaune nodded once more. "Who then created a shield sheath out of the unworkable bits of Helios Arc's broken armor?" Jaune nodded again. "The salvaged breastplate, pauldrons, shield sheath, and sword which were then given to Prometheus Arc?" Jaune nodded, confused at where this was going. "Kid, who are you? Why are you carrying god damned one of a kind relics!?" Marlon couldn't help but let a bit of astonishment in her tone, even if she kept her volume low enough to not alert her grandkid.
"Jaune Arc." Marlon paused before nodding.
"Yes, I guess that makes sense." She sighed. "Alright, so you're that old bastard's grandson, I take it?" Jaune nodded. "Sit down. Now, where's the armor? I don't see it on you." Marlon scanned the boy's body. And while he did patch up his hoodie, there wasn't any sign of the white and gold-lined armor anywhere.
"That was what I was going to ask your help for. They're broken." Jaune was carrying the scraps in a bag he borrowed and laid them out on the table. Marlon's eyes widened and practically shined as she picked up a few of the pieces and meticulously examined them, making sure not to cut herself on the sharp edges. Though, he could sense she had her aura unlocked, so that wouldn't be much of a problems.
She seemed to be doing mental calculus, a simple weighing of risks and potential gains. In the end, she simply gave a long and weary sigh that meant she was going to do something she might regret. "Ok kid, I want to ask you something, what do you know about your great-great grandfather?" Jaune paused, that wasn't a question he thought he was going to get.
"Well, uh. He was a really good fighter?" Marlon's gaze didn't break, she wanted more. "Could fight back armies on his own?" She was still waiting for something crucial. "Died in a barrage of cannonfire?" Nope, something else. "Shone like the sun?" Closer, closer. "Semblance was the ability to store energy in things?" And at that, Marlon snapped.
"Yep. Now here's an odd question, how do you think he was able to do that?" Huh? "How was Helios Arc able to get a full set of platemail and a sword that could have enough energy pumped into it to make him shine like a fucking flashbang and not have the armor melt on him?" Oh shit, that was actually a rather good question.
"Uh, really good metal?"
"Close! You see, Helios Arc was good at more than just fighting. He was also a very good smith. Believed that every creation in there was a work of art in its own right, and I can't say he's wrong. But his magnum opus? That would be Crocea Mors and that suit of armor. Hell, even one of those things has me beat in every way possible." Marlon leaned back into her side of the couch, a nostalgic smile plastered on her face. Meanwhile, Jaune struggled with the thought. While he loved Crocea Mors and wouldn't trade it in for anything, how could it top mechanical masterpieces like the ones she apparently could make?
"But, its just a sword?"
"It's more than that." Marlon rolled her eyes, unappreciative brats. "Helios Arc could pump enough heat into this things to make most metal turn liquid and it'd stay alright, not even a hint of softening up. The reason why your shield is practically invincible is because it was made of its metal. And now, I have a chance."
"A chance?"
"A chance to finally put old curiosities to rest. I never did learn how Helios Arc got his metal to behave that way. It always nagged at me. And now? Consider yourself lucky kid, I'm pulling my old ass out of retirement for this. You just need me to make armor, right?"
"Uh, yea?" Jaune contently patted his blade. "All I could ever want is right here." For some reason, Marlon simply smiled at those words. Smiled like his grandpa smiled. Smiled like his father smiled. Smiled like his mother smiled. It was odd, seeing such a familiar smile, like they were hearing the words not from a total stranger but from someone they knew. But that smile faded away, just like that brief moment of peace when a third voice came in.
"Really!?" Fior's excitable grandkid was also there and likely heard everything.
After Fior calmed down her grandchild and promised to make him something pretty while she was at the forge, she lead him to her room. There, she pulled out a backpack and began filling it with supplies. Camping supplies, an old bolt action rifle with a barrel painted a deep yellow she called 'Hornet', and a small book. She raised an eyebrow at Jaune's clothes, a hoodie, his jeans, boots, weapons, and literally nothing else. Well, a piece of jerky, or two in his pocket. But nothing else. Not even that salt shaker that he somehow never has to refill.
"I know you travel light, but you know we're going into cold weather, right? And the hoodie isn't going to help you much. I know aura can keep you warm, but we'll be dealing with Grimm."
"Well, hmmmm, ok one sec." Jaune grabbed some torn rags he had on him, dipped them in water, cracked open a flare, and coated the rags in fire dust. It was spread far enough that if it was triggered it would merely warm up considerably. And with the passive aura always protecting him, it'd automatically warm him up without any need for extra aura usage. "Heat packs, a trick I learned on the road."
"Good thinking. I'll be sticking to wearing a coat myself, however." On top of her normal sweater and trousers, she put on a heavy snow coat. "Anyways, I've told my girl that I'll be out for a while. I think this trip might take a day or so, not counting the time we'll be spending in my old forge." She cracks her knuckles almost instinctively at the reminder of the task ahead of her. "When we get there, I'll be looking hard into your armor. With the heat of the forge, I might be able to get it to bend. Or not, it could take metric tons of Helios' energy. Either way, I'll learn the secrets, repair your armor, and then we'll be back, and then you'll leave. Alright?"
Jaune nodded, this was more than he could've ever asked for, if he was honest. "Got it."
"Good, let's get going." Their walk took them to town, where Marlon went and bought some rations for their trip. She got some teasing remarks from the girls in town, but the old shopkeeper, a horse faunus with a missing eye, was the one to ask something that piqued Jaune's interest.
"You going back? Ya sure?" Unlike the others in town, he was her age. Instead of his hair just starting to lose its color, his was entirely white. Marlon sighed.
"Just once, Bachus. And if you know a forge that's closer, please tell me." Marlon was tired, as if she had been through this exact same thing a thousand times before.
"Alright then, good luck." And that was the remark that closed their time in the village. From there, with their supplies, they'd begin a trek towards the snowy peaks of Sanus. It was scenic, to say the least. Fior, despite being decades his elder, took the lead. That was due to two reasons. One, she was remarkably fit for her age. Two, she actually knew where their destination was. She didn't speak much during the first day of travels, as the air became cool to the point of necessitating Jaune using his heat packs. Jaune decided to use his skills of observation on the world around him as they walked, mostly out of boredom.
The path they were walking was paved, likely for convenience. In the distance, Jaune could see that it lead to the snowy mountains. The grass before them began to be highlighted with frost rather than morning dew. The evergreen trees, as per their name, stayed as crisply colorful even as snow caked its entire form with a layer of white. Though they weren't there yet, Jaune was wondering if during their travels, they'd have to deal with snow proper. That'd be quite the hassle, snow would close their viewing range and leave them more open to ambush. However, the snow was also a blessing, at least when it was quiet. Grimm were surprisingly good at ambushes, but snow made them more or less as unsubtle as their hulking nature might imply.
And then Jaune's focus turned to his traveling companion, Fior Marlon. What did he know about her? Greyed hair, legendary smith, and definitely reluctant to come here. Why? Did something happen in her forge? Did she injure herself and decided then and there to retire? A pang of paranoia rang through his heart, but he ignored it. What reason could she possibly have to do this? And even if she was experienced, Jaune was mostly sure he could at the very least hold his own against her. Well, no use underestimating. On another note, he also noticed more mundane things about her.
Spend a lot of time with a person in silence and you pick up on things. Marlon had many little idiosyncrasies, like her subtle counting of trees. Her eyes whizzed about their environment, counting each tree as if it was a ritual. She also fiddled with Hornet, turning it upwards before pulling back the bolt and then putting back in the dust round that was ejected or switching the hand she carried it in. Though, it was made for right handed people.
Jaune himself kept silent. He was all for polite conversation, but she didn't seem to be exactly enthusiastic with her decision. He just walked, simple as that, and kept his eyes and mind focused ahead of him. He turned his gaze to that of a sheep to act as a white cloak to hide him in the snow as he hoped her presence wouldn't attract any Grimm as well.
She was a crack shot with Hornet, which Jaune admired. From the looks of the thing when she pulled it out, it had been collecting dust for quite the while. But after a single missed shot with it, she could nail a Beowolf in the eye from fifty meters away. His role in combat was to keep Grimm away from her, which he was more than suited for with his sword and shield. His flare gun saw occasional usage, blowing snow up to disorient Grimm,
"Good swing, kid." Marlon nodded in recognition of his skills as he beheaded an Ursai with icicles protruding out from its back before turning back to the road as it faded away into nothingness.
On their journey, they made camp. The way to the forge wasn't a one way journey, after all. It was kind of like a hidden away temple that monks and pilgrims would have to intentionally search for as part of their journey. And from what Jaune had heard from Qrow about how some monasteries with monks that were specially trained in a martial art were hidden away in the depths of the Mistrali jungle, it wasn't too far of a comparison. Anyways, they made camp the normal way, setting up a fire in a safe place, making a few traps for Grimm, and then eating. While they ate, it was inevitable they talked for a while.
"Why're you out in the wild, anyways? Not many huntsmen make the journey into Pitside. For most it's too long without a stop, the trails are too steep, and the Grimm are extremely feisty. At least on the edges of town." Marlon sipped some soup she made from clean melted snow and instant cubes, which was quite the wise choice. Jaune already had an answer lined up.
"Eh, caught a glimpse of the town, thought it looked cool." Jaune shrugged, some of his decisions were kind of just like that. While he did often have connection to the CCT (which he would use to call him family at least once a week), he didn't really bother with official missions. And by official missions, he meant the ones that were in paper. Sure, he took them on occasionally, mostly because he was in town and there wasn't much else to do, or if they really needed one, but he generally avoided them for a few reasons. The most important reason being that he had no license for being a huntsman. None at all. Zero qualifications, at least on paper. Veinshire was more of an outlier rather than being the norm, he had heard some of the survivors lament about how the last expedition quit halfway. The office was happy to give it out to anyone with a passing interest just to get it done.
Instead of dealing with bureaucracy, Jaune usually traveled on the very edges, where the Huntsmen's Guild didn't actually have offices. There, any tasks for huntsmen could be taken by any average joe who looked like they had enough gear or skill. Those were the thoughts going through his head as Marlon gave him an unimpressed look.
"Jeez, it's a wonder you only have one scar on your chest." Retrospectively, Jaune would realize that she had seen the scar on his chest when he had disposed of his hoodie during an earlier fight with a Grimm before picking it back up later. Usually he didn't have to do that, his breastplate was more than enough to keep the baggy piece of clothing in line. But he supposed not having it meant that he would have to get used to the lightness he now felt, the extra mobility, and also the fact that his hoodie sagged and flapped like a grocery bag against a jet turbine.
That was a weird analogy, where was he going with it? Oh yes, she probably saw his scar. Coincidentally, it was also the first scar he had gotten in his journey into becoming a huntsman. The scar he got when his teacher almost cut him in half.
Raiden never let Jaune live that shame down. And to be fair, Jaune kind of had it coming. Was pointing his sword at the man who had slaughtered several bandits in less than a second really that good of an idea? Then again, the old bastard did admit that he should've noticed Jaune's clashing wardrobe, body, weapon, and skill level. Who could be blamed for what could go on for ever and ever, so Jaune simply let it go.
"I know, right?" Jaune spoke in a deadpan tone. He already knew the risks. They were made more than clear to him on more than one occasion from more than one person more than one time. "Could I ask you a question?"
With nothing better to do, Fior had not much else. "Shoot."
"Why did you became a blacksmith?" Well that was a question. Usually she was asked why she stopped. But hey, if the kid wanted to hear about those times, she might as well indulge.
"It's the start of the great war." Jaune made to interrupt, but she held up a hand. "I know, I'm not nearly old enough to have been alive back then. Anyways, my grandfather, he was a Mantlese slave in the forges. The personal one to a blacksmith. Well, old Hephaestus Marlon loved the work, despite his master being a cruel ass. Then, he learned something new that would change the war." She chuckled grimly. "Mass manufactured swords. It was a novel idea. A single factory that could supply a hundred men within a day or so? Preposterous! Each men would bring their own sword like good citizens. But Hephaestus Marlon thought up of the way we still make standard issue blades. A giant crucible filled with molten steel would pour the stuff into moulds. Now, back then, they would use Faunus slaves instead of automation. They would tear out the individual blades, pull off bits of junk, sharpen it a bit, then throw it in the pile. Now, every sword went from being handmade by a blacksmith to being produced by the hundreds! Spear and arrow heads were even easier than that!"
"So, why are you in Vale, then?"
"Well, you see, there was more than one reason why Hephaestus Marlon created this. With the first sword factory, his master bought more and more Faunus slaves to fuel it, to create more and more swords. But Hephaestus was not saddened by this grand display of slavery, even if he was responsible. Do you know why?" He raised an eyebrow, why not? "Because in a few months, Hephaestus Arc and the slaves of the Cast Steel Company would cut a bloody path through Mantle, freeing slave after slave before seizing a ship, and landing on Sanus. In exchange for money, freedom, and land, Hephaestus gave the technique he had invented over to the Valeans to recreate. And it spread from there."
"Wait, why didn't your grandfather do this before?"
"When it was just him? Sure, at any time he would've been more than able to gut his master. But the law protected him. If he killed that bastard, then he'd be hanged. Or his head would roll. Or he'd be tossed into a freezing river with a bag over his head and hands behind his back. Or he'd be burnt alive. Or crucified. Or-"
"Stop! I get the picture, I get the picture." Marlon chuckled as Jaune held in his stomach at the images she had provided. She always had a knack for storytelling.
"The factory not only gave them the numbers to escape Mantle and seize a ship, but it gave them the weapons."
"Huh? Wouldn't it be noticed?"
"Well, no. Logistics was handled by Hephaestus himself. His master was under the false impression that he was a 'loyal' slave after all of his years in dutiful service. So even though he couldn't lie about thirty swords going missing in one day, he could fudge the numbers just enough so that one or two would just disappear! And if hundreds were produced every day, who was going to care? And slowly, they'd have more and more weapons. I'm sure he'd have stayed to fully topple the nobility and monarchy, but his little rampage through Mantle didn't go unnoticed. So, as his group was beaten back by the army and their new early guns, they would find escape on a ship or two that was prepared for military to board it. With the close quarters, the group easily took it and set sail." There was a moment of silence following the end of her story as the fire flickered and cracked.
"That was a great story." Jaune actually offered a bit of applause. It was quite interesting.
"Yes, it was. Now, they settled in a little place called Pitside. Didn't want humans coming by again if they changed their minds. No offense." She added on, though he suspected it was more a show of politeness just in the very rare case he actually did get offended.
"None taken, its history. Literally!" Jaune chuckled at his own joke while Fior rolled her weary eyes.
"Now, where was I? Oh yes, Hephaestus had a daughter, named Vulcan Marlon. She was also quite the smith. But Ma didn't settle for being shadowed by her father, no, no! She was determined to be just as great as a smith. But in his years since settling down, Hephaestus Marlon had practically perfected the art of making swords! If he wanted quantity, he'd simply rely on his first innovation. If he wanted quality, then he sure as hell had it in spades! Sure, Crocea Mors may have been a work of art, but Helios only made one of those. Hephaestus? He made plenty more, dozens upon dozens. But, Ma was crafty as well. She had an ace in the hole."
"Oh, what was it?"
"She had a musket with a bayonet. It was old, proper bullets were starting to be made en masse, but that old musket intrigued her. It looked so much like a spear, yet was also a gun!"
"Mechashift!"
"Bingo, kid!"
"Wait, did she make this?" Jaune pulled out his mechashift sheath-shield, to which Marlon merely chuckled.
"No, no. The Steadfast Regent Arthur Arc never met Vulcan Marlon. No, when he made that, it was on his own. But he did take heavy inspiration from Ma. Her first one was a blade. She was real proud of it. With the help of a spring, she made it so that its sheath was its own handle." Marlon chuckled, remembering when her mother showed her the weapon in question. She had named it 'bumpy' after the sandpaper she had accidentally used for the handle.
"Wait, she made a switchblade?" Jaune seemed unimpressed. Once more, Marlon rolled her eyes.
"Kids." She said half-heartedly. "Well, yea? It was a bigger deal, back then. Knives used to have to be carried in sheathes, but with what Ma made? Sure, it may have been a bit more flimsy, but that really didn't matter. It was concealable and it was able to be carried in the pocket!"
"Huh, did your mother also make the magazine?"
"No, no. That was by John Times, not my Ma. But when she had heard about the leaps and bounds that had been made in gun technology, she knew what she had to do. She had made a few weapons, a sword that could turn into a spear, a mace that could detach its head easily, and a few other things, but when she saw a revolver for the first time, she knew she had to make something with it. So, she created the Apache Revolver."
"The-what-now?"
"The Apache Revolver. Otherwise known as Ma's greatest fucking mistake in the history of Remnant. Combination knife, knuckle duster, and revolver. No barrel, so it was inaccurate. The knife was flimsy and would fly off of or simply fold away with slight resistance. And knuckle dusters kind of sucked if the opponent had anything other than their fists." Marlon gave a hefty chuckle at that.
"What about aura?"
"What about it? If you have aura and they don't, it's already in your favor. And if you have aura and they do, but you're stuck with some shitty knuckles while they have a sword or spear? Then it's a losing fight. Plus, the knuckles couldn't be spiked either because of the design. They had to be smooth on both ends. But enough of that, Ma learned from her mistakes. She was like grandpa like that, never made the same mistake twice. So she made the Typewriter."
"The submachine gun?"
"No, no. The mecha-shift weapon. It was simple, really. Instead of having a weapon that could become two different weapons, why not have a weapon that can take on a totally innocuous form? It was the same principle as the switchblade."
"So, the submachine gun could turn into a typewriter?"
"A functioning one! Well, she wasn't expecting the design to be adopted by the mob, but she never really learned about that." Marlon sighed. "She was a great god damned smith. And like her father, she adopted some little orphan to become the successor to the Marlon name." Fior's smile turned bittersweet.
"And what about you?"
"Hmm?"
"What have you done?" Marlon's smile became strained. But the goodwill Jaune had earned by simply listening to her story wasn't spent yet.
"Oh, I did things alright. While Hephaestus may have created mass-manufactured swords and Ma was the mother of mechashift, I wasn't as good as them. I simply took the notes they took and simply developed my skills. With newer tech and mechashift, I had simply honed the ideas they had made. If you want solid achievements, I did invent the auto-shift."
"Huh, what's that?"
"Oh, it's simple. You know how your shield needs to have a button pressed to shift it?" Jaune nodded. "Well, some designs just can't be bothered to have that. So, using gravity dust, I invented a system where the only step required to shift forms was a simple pushing of aura into a certain place." Marlon smiled wistfully. "That was the greatest day of my life. I also made a few other things. Do you ever use dust with your weapon?"
"Huh? Oh, yea!"
"Well, I thought that it was also a good idea. But dust was just so slippery. So, I created a gel that would create a layer of dust on the blade so you could apply the effect in advance. I did a few other little things, good times."
"And then you retired?"
It was silent now. Jaune realized he had stuck his feet into his mouth and shut it immediately.
"Ah, s-sorry." Jaune backed up.
"No, no, it's fine. Just don't want to talk about it, alright? Now c'mon, it's getting late, kid. Get some sleep."
The awkwardness was forgotten about the next day when they got up, had a light breakfast, packed up, and set off once more. They made quick work as they traveled through the increasingly thick snow. As they walked, they got closer and closer to where Fior had said that the Marlon forge was. Apparently, it used the magma of the dormant volcano in order to heat the forge. As they got closer, Jaune could see what she meant about a volcano. Little pockets of warmth were littered across the snow, steam rising from hot springs that melted the snow around it.
Jaune would've tried touching out of curiosity, but Fior reminded him that the waters were beyond scalding, and that while aura may protect him from a lot, putting his finger in the scalding hot water would drain his aura faster than any Grimm. Also that it would still hurt like hell, like hornets constantly stinging his finger.
In the end, when they reached the forge, he thought it was fairly normal. To be fair, it was quite the large cave system. When they reached the forge proper, Jaune immediately took off his hoodie and heat packs as it was incredibly hot, likely due to the magma that the forge used. And it was beautiful as well. The floor was brick, there were a bunch of stone pillars, and even a large testing area for weapons! And of course, there was the forge.
But what Jaune didn't expect was for Fior to being to hyperventilate at the sight of an empty sword rack.
"No. Nonononononononononono-" Fior was cut off as Jaune sensed something coming towards her and tackled her to the side just as a sword with a yellow blade whizzed by and embedded itself into the stone wall and burst into nothingness, electricity buzzing out into the air. Jaune, now carrying for two, had to dodge and block for both him and Fior (though he took a few hits) as more and more swords were thrown at them.
"Fior!?" Once they entered cover, Jaune shook her.
"Y-y-y-y-yes?"
"What is attacking us?"
"T-t-t-the monster. It's coming. We should leave. Let's leave." No, not this far into the journey. They were right there! Jaune wasn't going to let some sword throwing monster get between him and some armor.
"No. I'm fighting that thing, do you know what is is?"
Fior didn't answer and Jaune sighed before handing the shell-shocked smith Crocea Mors' sheath, first pressing the button to turn it into a shield. "Don't let go. I'm fighting it." And with that, Jaune exited his cover of the pillar and faced the thing head on. And what a thing it was. It was a golem with a Grimm eye and a body made of swords, all different colors. Jaune could sense that the swords were made of dust. And it was perfectly fine just throwing them at him, as the space beneath him that was now a scorched crater could attest. Without his shield, Jaune could only use Crocea Mors to block or just roll away.
Jaune encroached closer and closer to the Blade Behemoth. It shifted from simply flinging swords at him to actively trying to strike him down with swift, sharp, and heavy slams with its legs and arms that Jaune dodged with ease. He tried to sink Crocea mors into its chest between two of the blades to try and strike at flesh, but all he got was a spray of flames in his face that forced him to back off. Jaune accidentally let go of Crocea Mors, leaving the blade embedded into the collective as he tumbled to the floor.
Jaune huffed, the heat was beginning to get to him. The entire arena basked in a dim bright orange glow that Jaune had to use as his light source. The Golem slammed and slashed and thrusts and rammed into him to no avail, he would simply dodge every single time.
But when he lost his sword, he had lost any avenue of attack. So he was stuck on the defensive, which was a losing strategy against Grimm if he didn't have any means of attacking himself. He was getting hit, he was getting cut. His aura was draining. He was losing. He might die. No, he'd have to retreat. He'd lose his sword as well. Oh brothers.
Meanwhile, Fior Marlon watched with wide eyes. She was scared, so scared. It was like she was a little girl once more, on the streets, afraid. It was like when she had first seen the hot metal. It was like when she had first seen a blade of her making. It was like when she fought her first Grimm. But Fior Marlon wasn't a weak little girl anymore, she was a proud woman, and was she really going to let this kid die because of her inaction? HELL NO!
"JAUNE!" Jaune perked up, tilting his head to acknowledge her screaming. "THOSE BLADES WERE MY LAST EXPERIMENTS! BLADES MADE OF DUST! SIMPLY SET ONE OFF-"
Jaune's eyes widened as he realized what to do. Marlon would've told him to simply set the effect off and let the dust burn away, what she didn't expect was for Jaune to give a grazing touch to one of the blades, only for it to explode. Jaune was protected, of course, he made the explosion happen away from him. What followed was Jaune touching blade after blade as they each exploded in a flurry of their element. The arms were encased in chunks of ice, sudden mounds of dirt and rock weighed down the golem, and fire set off a chain reaction.
To say it was messy was an understatement. But the Marlon forge was built to withstand explosions.
And with Jaune pulling out Crocea Mors and him putting his hand to the biggest blade of the bunch, one made of multiple types of dust, the Blade Beheamoth was felled. The next few minutes were a blur. Jaune sat down at a bench to take a break while Fior stood by a nearby anvil, preparing her equipment with newfound vigor.
"What was that?" Jaune asked in between his sharp breaths. He was fully shirtless now, otherwise his shirt would've been heavy with sweat.
"My nightmare." Fior sighed. "Do you want to know why I retired?"
"O-oh! No it's fin-"
"That was a rhetorical question. It's storytime." Fior absentmindedly did what she did best, smithing. She took an old ingot and put it in the flames to heat up. "It was about twenty years ago. I was thinking of getting myself an apprentice, when I heard the news. A village was slaughtered, a massacre of hundreds. It was done by some bandit group. But the worst thing was that I heard that many of them used my weapons. My custom made weapons. Used for the slaughter of innocent." Fior forced every word out, no matter how painful. Her tears evaporated on the now nigh-molten piece of metal beneath her. And so, she struck it with the hammer.
Jaune, for his part, could see why she'd be weighed down by that. He decided to comfort her. "It's not your fault y-"
"I've heard it. It is. Do you know how long it takes to make me a weapon?" Jaune thought for a moment. "For something like a dagger, it would be two hours at most. But for a custom weapon, it'd take weeks, even months. I pour my heart and soul into them, each and every one of them is a part of me I can't forget. And a few were used to kill innocents." Fior's face turned to that of a grimace. "That is why I retired. The nightmares were getting to be too much. Nightmares of a beast, a Grimm, that told me that for every sword I made, it'd take it and grow stronger, using them to kill." Another strike of the hammer shaped the dagger-to-be further more. "I didn't listen to it at first, threw myself into dust blades. But then, it became too much. And the rest is history."
"What changed?"
"I did. I suppose coming back here changed a lot. It's been decades. Every single thing I create is a work of art, a one of a kind piece. Likewise, the forge has so many decades of history. So many discoveries. So many creations. And I let it rot." Fior seemed regretful. "All over my own guilt over things I couldn't control. I may have had innocent blood on my hands, but I still left this place for dead. Perhaps he was right, I should move on. No use letting my talents waste away like this."
All the while, Jaune let her think as she mindlessly pounded at the metal. It was her moment.
"You know, thanks for making me come here. I'm sure my grandson would've whittled me down eventually and have gotten me to come back. But then I would've died to my long awaiting nightmare." She sighed. "Sorry, I'm being a downer. Being old isn't a license to mourn the past. It's a reason to celebrate every second you're living!" She quickly let a smile form on her face as she pounded at the steel faster and faster. After Jaune had fully recovered from the fight, Fior had finished with the dagger without a thought. She promptly threw it into the magma.
"I thought each and every creation was a part of you?"
"Yea, well who said I had to keep around every part of myself?" Fior offered a smug smile, to which Jaune laughed. He went to their backpack and fished out the remains of his armor, finally ready to be reforged. Fior, with glimmering eyes that fully shined, now unburdened by guilt, examined the metal dutifully. She had even pulled out a microscope to look at it.
A while later, she gasped and pulled back.
"I got it!" She took off to grab some metal and dust. Soon, she came back. And before Jaune could ask, she answered. "I know how Helios Arc did it. He poured his energy into it, right? Well, I think his semblance allowed him to use parts of his aura to store the energy he had in himself into items. Well, that or releasing it. But we're interested in the former. And Dust particles are essentially small super-compressed battery packs of energy that are housed within an altering lens. Now, if what I'm thinking is right, then the metal used for both Crocea Mors and your armor had dust forged into them. And the reason why the dust lasted so long was because it was white dust!" If Jaune remembered correctly, White Dust was dust that had lost all the energy inside of it. The only thing that happened to it when aura was put into it was that it simply glowed. It was also essentially impossible to burn away like other dusts because of the mechanics of dust. "And extra-pure white dust at that! And because the only thing the White Dust did was glow, it looked like Helios was glowing like the sun all the time!" Fior's grin was maniacal as she began to mess with the metals and dusts she had gotten.
Dust in its grinded up form faded quickly but stored far more easily. While the crystals were trickier but faded extremely slowly. It seemed like Fior had quite a few crystals in the forge. She had opened the crucible and began to throw metals and dust together.
"What about the heat?"
"Myth. Either that, or Helios simply used the armor and sword like a battery pack to store extra energy that he would then unleash through them. He could always simply bleed out excess energy by unleashing heat. Anyways, that gives me an idea. When burned or somehow made to react, the energy within dust is drawn out and modified in the lens, but its different when aura is used. Do you know why dust is consumed when its used with aura?"
"Uh, because aura is simply a catalyst for the internal energies to pour out?" He was really bored and had found a book in a wreckage.
"Yep! Theoretically, when used with aura, dust could be infinite. Except, most auras are too small for that to be feasible. For most, supplanting the internal energies with aura gives a minuscule effect. Instead, most stick to the more effective but wasteful approach, using their aura as a catalyst, like you said. But, it seems like you were able to full supplant the internal energies with your own back there, why was that?" Jaune blushed, realizing he did something impressive without even knowing.
"Oh, uh, that's my semblance. I can amplify my own aura to increase its effectiveness." The smile on Fior's face should've scared him.
"Good!" She got about to messing about with the new metal she had pulled out with gusto. "In that case, I can simply recreate the forging method Helios used for his armor to create some of yours. Dust infused metal for most would be useless. Because if they rely on the energy of their auras, the effect will be quite underwhelming. But if they use the internal energies and cause the lens structure to collapse, then whatever weapon they're using will simply shatter under the new strain! But you! You don't have to worry about that, now do you?" Jaune shook his head. "Alright then, Fior Marlon is back in business! And my first piece of art will be one that nobody else can use, feel appreciated, Arc?"
"Y-yea!" Jaune went from being nervous due to not wanting to step on her toes to being scared shitless at the very enthusiastic hammering of the metal. Remember what he said about probably being able to take her on in a fight? Yea, no, she'd kick his ass seven ways to Solitas if she fought with even a fraction of the strength, enthusiasm, and sheer pants-shittingly terrifying joy that she displayed as she made a breakthrough. Curiosity got the better of the part of his mind that screamed 'don't bother her' and he asked, "Hey, I've been wondering something."
"Yea?"
"Why do you keep on calling me my grandfather's grandson?"
"Aren't you?"
"Well yea, I am. But for being so informed on my family history, you don't seem to know who my father is."
"Oh, that's cause I knew your grandpa." What. "Yea! I was eighteen, just after the great war. I was working in the forge when a handsome man just barely older than 19 came in. That's your grandpa, Prometheus Arc. He was one of the first people to become a huntsman. And he was realy fond of bothering me, I'll tell you." She rolled her eyes at the memory. "Still, he was honest, he helped clear Grimm, and he always got me the metals I needed. Not too hard on the e-"
"I do not need to know about my grandfathers love life." Jaune sighed.
"Oh c'mon kid, we didn't get up to anything like that. He was an annoying but good friend. And we talked about our family histories sometimes. I really wanted to know about the fabled blade Crocea Mors and he would never let me touch it, nor would he let me touch his armor. Fucking troll." Fior fondly sighed at the memory. "Anyways, he left town later. Said there was an urgent mission. Last I heard of him since then."
"Huh, alright then." Someone who actually knew his grandfather. That was interesting.
And so she worked. For hours and hours, Marlon worked. She bumped into roadblocks occasionally, but none stopped her in her relentless smithing. Nothing would stop her from feeling that high of finally going back to where she obviously belonged. And in the end, she went above and beyond for Jaune. The deal was that she make a new breastplate, instead she created the basics of what was practically a full suit of armor.
All of it was white with gold trim. The chestplate now covered more of his body and his pauldrons were reforged to be less clunky. He now had elbow and arm guards that he really enjoyed, as well as gauntlets that fit him like a glove. When they were inconvenient, Jaune could simply take them off (which was remarkably easy) and put them into the holsters that Fior had made that hanged off of his belt. And if that wasn't enough, he had things to cover his legs and feet. Sabatons and greaves covered his lower legs and feet. They worked really well and Fior actually made them so they didn't impede his movement too much.
And that wasn't the final gift. It was what he would use as he looked up the hill of Marlon's house. They had come all the way back, Jaune practically beaming with thankfulness towards the old woman for her generosity.
"I keep on tellin' ya, it was an honor for me to do it." Jaune rolled his eyes at the line that had been repeated nearly 30 times. He looked up the wet hill, his first enemy in Pitside, but now he had a way to conquer it. Unwrapping it from his side, he flicked the piece a piece of metal that capped the end of the rope around his waist, and out came four hooks. He now had a grappling hook. And as he threw it, one might expect it to go a pitiful distance, but his aura coursed through the rope and touched the ends of the head that were facing towards him. And forceful jets fueled by his aura and created by wind and gravity dust propelled the grappling hook head to go and wrap around the bright red oak.
If Jaune had no more tricks up his sleeve, then he would've simply went up the hill like a normal person by using the rope and grappling hook as a holding point. But he had more. Crouching down in preparation, he mumbled to himself a prayer of luck, and leapt. From the greaves, sabatons, and elbow guards, forceful jets came out from the metal and propelled him upwards. Holding on tightly to the rope, he accidentally shot too far and ended up too far above the ground as he accidentally let go of the rope.
He tumbled through the air for a moment. He was going to land below the hill once more. He strafed so he could land on his feet before holding in his breath and pumping his aura into his feet just as he landed.
But instead of the pain he was expecting in his legs, he heard a loud blast as dirt and grass was suddenly kicked up. A small crater had been created below him by his sabatons. And shortly after he would realize that he had inadvertently found another use for his new armor. Still, the jets alone cost too much aura to sustain. Simply shooting himself up cost him a third of his aura. He'd have to use them in tiny bursts. The fall damage-negation also cost a bit of aura, but it was a one-time use so it didn't hurt that much. He calmed his breathing and god up. Upon on the hill, Fior had his grappling hook in hand, smiling as she saw the fruits of her labor.
"Here, catch!" Fior tossed the grappling hook wildly in the air, purposefully missing. Jaune Pulled him arm up and poured his aura into his armguard, creating a magnet effect that quickly attracted the grappling hook head towards him. He could also hook his shield on his arm guard, though he was unsure of how effective that might be. He put forward a gauntlet clad hand and poured aura into the dormant gravity dust, making the rapidly approaching grappling hook slow down enough for him to catch safely.
"Hey, kid?"
"Yea?"
"I think I created some things that finally beat Helios Arc." Jaune smiled and looked at his new armor. It was shining, it was practical, it was effective. It was everything he could've asked for when he was in the market for new armor.
"And it'll be told about in legends just as much."
"Oh, you make me blush with those sappy lines." And with that, he had finally obtained his armor.
So, this one took a while I suppose. I've been playing a lot of Disco Elysium recently. It's really good.
So, now with the armor, Jaune effectively has some more tricks up his sleeve. On first glance, he may seem pretty simple, even a bit easy for those more cocky. A guy wearing armor even with aura and with a sword and shield. But first, he has a flare gun that he can and will use to suddenly blind, bind, or blast without a moments hesitation. Second, he can use his aura amp to overcharge the gravity/wind dust in his greaves and elbow guards to make his kicks and punches really forceful or just have a sudden burst of instant mobility. He can use the electro magnetic effect on his arm guards to fuck with their weaponry. He can use his rocket (not really, its also gravity/wind dust) grappling hook head to do that as well. On top of it all, aura amplification also works with dust, which is my canon explanation on why Jaune in chapter 3 was able to do some crazy shit with just a few handfuls of the stuff. He just hadn't realized it was a semblance until chap 11
Also, if Jaune really amps up his sabatons (and also gets metal soles to match it), he can essentially become Penny in V8.
And yes, THIS IS A TRIGUN REFERENCE!
Also, both Meandering Arc and Charity Work will be left unupdated for a hot moment. Another pilot for an orphan fic will be posted before I get back to these.
Review Answering:
Anon-kun: Don't worry! I won't be fridging the family, mostly because that's mostly done as a 'call to adventure' and well, Jaune has already answered the call. So murdering his family would just be superfluous.