Chapter 4 - Confused Explanations


"So, let me get this straight..." Yang murmured, rubbing her temples as she stared at the young boy seated next to her. "You're from a whole other world, you were fighting a completely different giant black dragon, and you know absolutely nothing about the one which destroyed Helgen?"

"... pretty much, yeah?" Jaune said with far more confidence than he felt, knowing just how ridiculous it sounded. Across the table, Hadvar and his uncle, the blacksmith Alvor, had opted to give the pair some privacy (and let Yang deal with Jaune), tuning them out in favor of discussing their next potential courses of action. "Look, I'm really grateful that you saved my life, and that's why I'm telling you as much of the truth as I can figure out for myself, but I really don't know anything about what happened to your town!"

"Do you take me for a fool, Vomit Boy?" Yang hissed at him, eyes flashing scarlet, and Jaune was sorely reminded of his world's Yang Xiao-Long, and especially her temper. "Couldn't you have just told the truth, instead of coming up with a story even a child would find difficult to believe?"

"But I am telling you the truth!"

Yang glared at Jaune, trying to find any hint of deception, but there was none. So, either he was one of the best liars in Tamriel (something she sorely doubted, seeing the quality of the stories he was telling), or he genuinely believed his own spiel. Sighing, her previous anger ebbed away, replaced with the frustrating knowledge that she'd worked so hard, risked so much, almost died multiple times even, and all she had to show for it at the moment was a boy from another world, a wanted Imperial poster of her in a burning town, and a story of a dragon.

Unfortunately for Jaune, whenever she felt frustrated, she coped by getting angry (again). She knew she was being unfair, but she had saved his life, and it was with a harsh tone that she countered: "Look, Jaune... I saved your life. At the very least, you owe me an explanation, some proof, any reason to believe your extraordinary claims."

Jaune gulped, knowing that tone. He'd grown up with many sisters, after all, and had heard it many times. Even worse, he knew what an angry Yang could do. Holding his hands out in surrender, he chose to throw himself at the mercy of the court: "Yang, I do owe you my life, and I give you my word that I'll do whatever you ask, whatever I can to repay it! And an Arc never goes back on his word But, as for me proving it..."

Jaune paused, remembering that his sword was still missing, and had broken. But he still had his shield-sheath, and his Aura should have recovered by now...

A very, very, very dumb idea struck him. But, he was desperate enough to defuse Yang that he seized it without a second thought.

Drawing his sheath (to the surprise of everybody in Alvor's house), he said: "I want you to hit me as hard as you can, right here."

"... are you sure about this?" Hadvar asked, concerned. "I don't know what you two were discussing, but I've seen her cave a bear's skull in with a single blow."

"Now, now, Hadvar, it's not our place to judge others for... certain, tendencies." Alvor, his uncle, chided, even as he took a step back.

Yang ignored them all, instead seeing an outlet for her pent-up stress. Unlike the pair, she had a fair bit of experience in analyzing others (practically a necessity in Bravil, knowing who was eyeing you as an easy mark). From the hints of muscle, the way he carried himself, she could tell that the boy was no untrained milk-drinker; she felt no need to hold back, and she gave him a cocky grin, before rearing her fist back.

Jaune gulped again, knowing that look. But it was too late for regrets. All he could do, as she tried to slug him, was act on the instinct drilled into him through months of training with the best of the best.

Yang grinned in vindication as she saw him shift his weight onto his forward foot, and his empty sheath moved to parry her attack.

That vindication turned into surprise, surprised echoed thrice through out the room, as his sheath suddenly transformed into a heater shield, which instead blocked her punch with a bright white flash.

Jaune nodded in satisfaction behind his shield. He could feel the force behind Yang's fist; even the Ursa Major he'd faced in Forever Fall would've lost to that blow. But his shield was still up and in his hands; his grip was as tight and firm as ever, and his foe was overextended, unsteady on her feet. Most of all, though, he'd confirmed that his Aura still worked, still protected him.

Surprisingly, it was Alvor who was on him first, demanding: "What is that?! How did your sheath do that?! And what material is it even made out of?!"

"It's a hand-me-down from my family; my sheath turns into a shield." Jaune replied with a shrug, having seen more impressive weapons. "It's common enough where I come from; my partner's sword could transform into a javelin as well. As for how it works... I don't know, and I don't know what it's made out of."

"So, Vomit Boy, what's with the glowing thing?" Yang asked, poking at him and finding the field to be exceptionally sturdy. Jaune shrugged once more, handing his sheath over to Alvor, who immediately began poking and prodding at it. Hadvar joined in, and with a thoughtful impact murmured: "It feels like an Ironflesh spell? No, perhaps much stronger? But there wasn't any casting..."

"This... is Aura. It's supposed to be a manifestation of my soul, protecting me from damage. Skilled wielders of Aura can even channel it into their weapons, apparently, to sharpen their edge." Jaune explained, trying to recall what Pyrrha had told him a life ago. "Everyone in the academies had theirs unlocked; we needed it, to fight."

So I was right, Yang nodded to herself in satisfaction, anger once more ebbing away now that she'd been given reasonable proof that he really was from another world, that she wasn't being lied to, and that the boy she'd fought to save may not have been dead weight after all, but somebody who could perhaps lend some assistance to her on her journey.

Hadvar, meanwhile, was less cheerful, noting the unspoken words: "Children had these "Auras" unlocked, and were sent to academies to learn how to fight? But if everyone has Aura like this, massive battles would be a nightmare..."

"Oh, we weren't trained to fight each other, except perhaps in show tournaments and practice spars." Jaune naively explained, recalling some of Pyrrha's more private comments about her championships (and being in the dark about bandits, the Great War, the Faunus War, and criminals with Aura, to say nothing of the shadow wars between Salem and Ozpin). "We trained to protect humanity from the Grimm."

"You mentioned those before." Yang noted. "Are they common knowledge in your world?"

Jaune nodded. "The whole of humanity's under attack by the Grimm; last time I saw a map, they'd overrun perhaps two-thirds of the world's landmass? They're creatures of darkness and shadow, who exist solely to wipe out mankind."

"Well... sounds a lot like Skyrim, I suppose." Hadvar joked after a pregnant pause. Jaune raised an eyebrow at that, and Yang chuckled, and explained: "Skyrim's known as one of the harshest lands in Tamriel; half the year is spent surviving the cruel long winters, every child learns how to use an axe as soon as they can lift one to protect themselves from the wildlife, and now I guess there's a slight dragon problem. But it's still the land my bitch of a mother called home."

"By the Nine, this metal is beyond even ebony! But lighter than glass!" Alvor suddenly announced, startling them. "But, I can't make head or tails of the contraptions behind this... boy, how much do you want for this?"

"It's a family heirloom; I'm not selling it!" Jaune protested, snatching it back from the awestruck blacksmith. Before Alvor could counter, Hadvar patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him down, and quickly interrupted: "Alright, uncle, let's focus on what's important. Yang, could you go to Whiterun, and deliver a message to the Jarl? Tell him that Riverwood needs security to be stepped up. I'll rest here and recover my strength, before heading to Solitude to meet up with General Tullius and try to clear your name."

"May the Divines guide your journey, Hadvar." Yang intoned, before grabbing Jaune, and saying: "Come on, Vomit Boy! We're off to get you a change of clothes, and then we're following the river to Whiterun. And, of course, I'm putting it all on your tab."

"You know, maybe I should have just sold my sheath after all..." Jaune murmured under his breath, as soon as he was safely out of earshot of Alvor. "I'm sure Alvor would've been more than happy to pay for all this."

Yang laughed good-naturedly, and lightly clapped him on the back. Jaune relaxed, shooting her a light smile in return. Sure, he wasn't as familiar with Yang Xiao-Long as, say, Ruby or Weiss, and he knew that this wasn't the same Yang Xiao-Long he knew from Beacon, but subconsciously he couldn't help but ascribe the mannerisms and expressions of the one he knew to the one in front of him. Sure, this one seemed to be far more violent, petty, and self-serving, and he knew he was being naive and trusting, but she had saved his life. More importantly, it wasn't like he had anyone else he could rely on, and at least Yang seemed to know what she was doing.

That happy thought lasted until she led him into the general store, and they walked right into the middle of a fierce argument.

The shopkeeper and the woman in his shop had completely ignored the sound of the door opening in favor of their personal argument, which Jaune took as a very clear sign to leave. However, before he could back out of the shop, Yang simply strutted towards the counter, and rapped her knuckles impatiently against the sturdy wood, getting their attention.

Jaune resisted the strong urge to smack his palm against his face and groan deeply into it, and instead coped by mentally filing this Yang as "having worse social skills than Ruby".

The pair, meanwhile, backed away, their cheeks flushed, and with a quick clearing of his throat the man behind the counter welcomed them into his shop with an apology that they had to witness the argument. Yang simply grunted non-committaly, and asked if he had some clothes for sale for Jaune. The shopkeep, Lucan, gave him a quick once-over, and called for his sister, Camilla, to take Jaune's measurements, leaving him and Yang to begin the arduous task of haggling and selling the broken scraps of weapons she'd looted from the Stormcloaks in Helgen to him respectively.

As he was brought to a more private area of the shop upstairs, Jaune attempted to make small talk with Camilla, though he had no idea where "Cyrodiil" was, nor did he know how to explain what he used to do, where he was from, or how "training to be a hunter" had led to his hoodie and breastplate being in it's current state ("It's got more holes than a thief's excuse!"). Fortunately, he didn't need to talk much once the roll of measuring tape was brought out; Camilla seemed to have suddenly become tongue-tied, stammering over her words as he removed his ruined equipment.

Jaune, for his part, saw nothing wrong with this; he'd grown up with seven older sisters who'd loved to dress him up after all, and he'd shared a room with Nora and Pyrrha.

Hell, Pyrrha'd been even worse; his poor partner's face had been as red as her hair, and she'd been reduced to squeaks, coincidentally whenever he'd taken off his hoodie. He'd thought the two might've been related, and had asked Pyrrha if she minded him changing in their common room, but Pyrrha had denied it, saying it was nothing. She'd even gone as far as to vehemently protest when he'd offered to change in the bathroom anyway, stressing that she didn't want him to go to any further trouble. And he trusted his partner to know best, so he'd set aside his concerns and chosen to follow her advice.

He did have to raise an eyebrow and try to speak up when he saw the clothes Camilla brought for him to try out.

Meanwhile, the trade negotiations downstairs were getting heated, as Lucan proved his worth as a general goods store owner in a quiet town while Yang combined a crafty Imperial upbringing with the stubbornness that all Nords were born with. Lucan, for his part, pointed out that the only thing he could do with the pile of scrap metal Yang had brought him was to sell it to Alvor to be melted down, while Yang waved around the sword she'd picked out as she demanded double of what he was offering, on grounds that two hundred pounds of iron and steel, even if it was trashed junk, was still two hundred pounds of quality iron and steel. Fortunately for Lucan's countertop, they were interrupted by Jaune and Camilla coming down the stairs, announcing their return. Yang nodded, turning to Jaune to respond, before stiffening.

Lucan, however, had absolutely no trouble in speaking up: "What in Oblivion is that?"

"Camilla assured me that this was the loosest shirt you had in stock." Jaune explained, picking at his tight itchy tunic, and longing forlornly for his baggy comfy hoodie once more.

"Are you sure?" Lucan asked skeptically, raising his eyebrow at his drooling sister. "I can always double-check the back..."

"No, no, it's fine." Yang quickly interjected, after nodding appreciatively. "Besides, he's a warrior; loose clothing would be a liability, with how it could catch on something or be grabbed."

And the lack of blood circulation wouldn't? Jaune mentally retorted, though he held his tongue. The clothes were being bought for him, after all, and he wasn't ungrateful enough to complain. Also, growing up with seven sisters had taught him the wisdom in holding his tongue, especially when girls were buying clothes for him. The poor place probably just has difficulty getting supplies, what with that civil war the blacksmith mentioned...

"Anyway, shopkeep, will the metal at least cover the cost of a new sword and the tunic?" Yang asked, changing the subject. She was a bit short on coin, having spent a fair bit travelling to Skyrim from Bravil, and wanted the discount.

"I'd love to say yes, but costs are on the rise with the Civil War intensifying." Lucan countered, clearly not willing to agree.

"And there was that break-in..." Camilla reminded him.

"There was a break-in?" Jaune asked, concerned. He needed new clothes and a weapon, sure, but he wouldn't have felt right, getting a discount if the shopkeep was struggling.

Misunderstanding his expression, Lucan quickly defended: "Yes, we did have a bit of a... break-in. But we still have plenty to sell. Robbers were only after one thing. An ornament, solid gold. In the shape of a dragon's claw."

"We could get it back for you!" Jaune eagerly spoke up, missing Yang's quick gesturing.

"You could?" Lucan asked, before excitedly adding: "I've got some coin coming in from my last shipment. It's yours if you bring my claw back, along with the tunic and the sword. If you're going after those thieves, you should head to Bleak Falls Barrow, northwest of town."

""So this is your plan, Lucan?" Camilla asked, folding her arms and raising an eyebrow at her brother.

"Yes. So now you don't have to go, do you?" Lucan retorted easily, with just a hint of smugness.

"Oh really? Well I think your new helpers here needs a guide." Camilla countered, eyeing Jaune up in a way that made him feel like he was missing some very important context.

"Wh- no... I... Oh, by the Eight, fine. But only to the edge of town!" Lucan relented, unable to come up with any excuses to stop his sister from going with the pair.

Fortunately for Lucan (and unfortunately for Camilla), Yang had by this point grabbed Jaune by the arm, and as she dragged him outside she called back: "Don't worry, we don't need a guide."

"What was that about? Did I miss something?" Jaune asked, once the door was closed behind them.

"I should be asking you what that was about!" Yang hissed back at him. "We have a pretty important task, remember? Delivering news to the Jarl about the dragon so he can try to do something to stop it from burning down the town?!"

"... I just thought we could help, and I didn't want to cost you any more money..." Jaune said, looking down, and for a moment Yang felt like she'd kicked a puppy.

Then she looked back at his clothing, remembered how Camilla had been eyeing him up, and made a half-hearted attempt to lighten the mood by teasing: "And I suppose Camilla had nothing to do with your decision, Lover Boy?"

"... I'm not sure what you're talking about?" Jaune merely looked confused, having grown inured to Yang's teasing thanks to a semester at Beacon.

"... you're serious, aren't you... forget it... so, what's the plan? We need to get that message to the Jarl, but you've already said that you'd help the shop. And-"

"And an Arc never goes back on his word." Jaune finished proudly, refusing to be baited by her teasing. Then he shrugged, and explained: "I figured only one of us needs to deliver the message to the Jarl, and only one of us needs to sneak into the bandit camp and get the claw back."

"... you're sure you can handle the bandits on your own?" Yang asked, skeptically. "Weren't you still in training to be a hunter?"

"I have Aura, remember?" Jaune reminded her, and she flushed, before looking away with a scowl. "I'll be done in a flash and meet you in Whiterun, alright?"

-DRAGONSREACH, THREE HOURS LATER-

"So the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" Farengar, the Jarl's court wizard, asked as he gave Yang a once-over. For a moment, he wondered how the blonde muscle-headed Nord could be helpful to him, save perhaps for a test subject. Then he remembered recent events, and corrected himself: "Oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons. Yes, I could use someone to fetch something for me. Well, when I say fetch, I really mean delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

Yang, having been through this before, cut through his rambling: "All right. Where am I going and what am I fetching?"

"Straight to the point, eh? No need for tedious hows and whys. I like that. Leave those details to your betters, am I right?"

Yang merely raised an eyebrow at him, eyes flashing red, and with a cough Farengar quickly continued: "I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow - a 'Dragonstone,' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet - no doubt interred in the main chamber - and bring it to me. Simplicity itself.:

"... did you say Bleak Falls Barrow?"

"Yes, the ancient tomb in the mountain to the west, above the town of Riverwood. Do you need me to mark it for you on your map?"

"No, I know exactly where it is." Yang groaned.


Author's Note: And we're back! I tried to pump out this chapter as fast as I could, if only to make up for the previous chapter.

Yes, I know Dovah-Yang' was extremely harsh on Jaune in the beginning of the chapter, but a) she's Yang Xiao-Long if Yang Xiao-Long was even more head-strong and fiery-tempered, b) Yang's been through one of the most stressful days of her life, including multiple brushes with death, c) and all it netted her was a boy with an extraordinary claim and an extraordinary lack of evidence, and d) this is Interwar Tamriel; the lands are harsh, the people are harsher, and life is cheap. Even in the more "civilized" Cyrodiil, there'd have been many who wouldn't have thought twice about leaving Jaune behind. In Skyrim terms, Yang is completely legally justified in reminding the interloper from another world that he owes her a life-debt. And sure, perhaps a more subtle person would have been able to underscore the point without being so blunt, but would that be Yang?

As for why Hadvar is seemingly so stoic... he's a professional grunt. When important stuff starts flying overhead, he maintains his composure by focusing on his priorities, what he can actually achieve, which are, at the moment, figuring out how to help Uncle Alvor, and getting back to Castle Dour to get debriefed by General Tullius. Any information Jaune may have on fighting dragons would be useful, but the stuff about him being from another world are set aside. Of course, once it's time to kick back and relax, he'll probably discuss it with his squadmates, or drunkedly announce it in a bar where it'd be dismissed as alcohol-induced nonsense.

And to those who think Jaune's taking this a bit well... he's basically still in the stage of shock where you're just numb and accept everything that's going on. I don't know about most people, but every time I was tossed head-first into the deep end (metaphorically speaking), I could cope decently well initially by forcing myself to only focus on what was in front of me at the time, keeping my mind completely occupied with the situation at hand, and in general just being too busy to actually panic. It was only after I could actually relax, and my mind was rested enough to actually start considering the bigger picture, that I'd begin to freak out as the sheer weight of the situation would hit me. And I didn't spend well over a semester in a prestigious Huntsman training academy learning how to survive missions deep in hostile territory through unclaimed wilderness for long periods of time

Also, with regards to Yang just ignoring the argument the two NPCs were having and just talking to them instead... that's exactly what most player characters do, right? It's not just me, right? ... right?

Before anyone starts protesting about Camilla Valerius showing interest in Jaune... she's a girl taken away from the big city and trapped in a boring small town, spending her days dreaming of a more interesting life. Enter Jaune, a fairly soft-spoken and well-groomed youth, with a physique better than most soldiers (better nutrition, more than a semester at Beacon and training with Pyrrha and Nora, and Aura to help boost muscle repair), who's polite and idealistic to the point of naivety. And seeing how open and direct Camilla is when trying to get what she wants (in the base game, it was for Lucan to accept help)...

Bleak Falls Barrow dialogue was changed from "northeast of town" to "northwest of town", because Bleak Falls Barrow is northwest of Riverwood, not northeast.

And I've finally set up a ko-fi page; it's just somerandomshittyrambler (alternatively, you can find it on my profile). I cannot stress this enough; this just a tip jar, purely to be on a voluntary basis. It is not for profit, it is not for commissions, and once again it is purely voluntary. Donations will only be to pad my finances, and will not go towards giving me a regular schedule or committing me towards putting out the next chapter any faster. This is because my top priority has been, and has to be, my real life work and job (which this is not), and secondly I already put out chapters as fast as I can, as soon as the chapter is completed and edited to meet my (admittedly-low) standards. I will not compromise on quality, I cannot control for writer's block or lack of interest, and I will not be holding chapters hostage with this. I am not going to ask that my readers give me money; feel free to tip me only if you think I actually deserve the few cents, and you can actually spare the few cents.