Chapter 83 - Jaune vs Counselling


Velvet roared in frustration, gripping the Crocea Mors tightly in her hand, before leaping forward.

Her target silently stared back at her, unmoving.

She came to a halt in front of it, and transferred her momentum into her sword, driving it into her target's breast, before swinging her sword to the side, carving out a significant chunk of it.

Then, as the sword began glowing, she immediately slashed at the target again ferociously, as she'd seen Sir Jaune do.

And again.

And again.

And again.

As pieces of the target fell apart around her, she took a moment to study her carnage, breathing heavily as she did so, before shaking her head, unsatisfied.

"... that was really good." Jaune spoke up, earnestly congratulating Velvet as he entered the training arena, and studied the fallen chunks of training dummy that littered the floor.

"Sir Jaune!" Velvet yelped, jumping like a startled rabbit. "When did you get here?!"

"I came in just in time to see you chop up the training dummy over there." Jaune reassured her, before noting: "I didn't even know you could use a sword, though."

Velvet quickly turned her burning face, mumbling something unintelligible that Jaune didn't catch.

Instead of pushing the matter, however, Jaune casually asked: "So, what's on your mind, anyway?"

"What makes you think there's anything on my mind, Sir Jaune?" Velvet asked, trying to keep up her usual sunny disposition.

"I grew up with seven sisters, Velvet." Jaune rolled his eyes, figuring that statement explained enough.

"You did, Sir Jaune?" Velvet's eyes widened, and she spun to face him, looking for any signs that he was joking.

"Yep." Jaune grinned, seeing that he had her attention. For some reason, that little tidbit caught a lot of people's attention. "Was the youngest, too. That was... fun."

Velvet giggled, before blanching at the idea of growing up with seven Gawains.

"Don't laugh!" Jaune protested jokingly. "I had to learn how to cook, dance, and style hair just to survive!"

Velvet couldn't help it; after the confusion of the past few days, and the stress of the feast, there was just something so surreal, about imagining the Knight of Compassion dancing and styling hair, that she couldn't help but laugh.

"Anyway, I think I can tell when there's something bothering a girl." Jaune rolled his eyes, firmly changing the subject. "So, what's on your mind, Velvet?"

The laughter died away, in favor of an awkward silence, before Velvet finally admitted: "I don't think the King likes me, Sir Jaune."

"What? That's ridiculous!" Jaune immediately scoffed. "Arthur barely even knows you! Why wouldn't he like you?"

"Well..." Velvet's voice trailed away, as she remembered the feast.

How the oh-so-perfect-and-ideal King had kept shooting glares at her, and the sword by her hip, eyeing her warily.

How he'd barely acknowledged her presence, let alone her accomplishments.

How he'd stiffly sat by Sir Jaune's other side, and seemed hell-bent on interrupting any interaction between the squire and her mentor.

... come to think of it, hadn't Agravain warned her that the King didn't approve of other women interacting with his Steward?

Not that she could blame him, having heard of the infamous misadventures of Merlin...

"Just a feeling, I guess." Velvet finally answered. "The King seemed a lot... stiffer, and colder, than how my brothers usually describe him..."

"Yeah, I noticed that too." Jaune murmured, frowning. Then he shook her head, and reassured her: "Well, whatever it is, it's probably not you, alright? You didn't do anything wrong, after all. Anyway, I'll talk to Arthur later, see what stick got shoved up his ass."

Velvet fought down a horrified giggle, at her mentor's crass and vulgar language. Sure, she'd been exposed to it multiple times (in fact, she found his lack of formality endearing, compared to the stuffy nobles of her father's court, and the usual coldness of her mother), but seeing it directed at King Arthur of all people?

Then, he quietly added: "After all, that's apparently what they summoned me for..."

Velvet froze, ears and hair bangs perked straight up.

What had Sir Jaune just said?

Summoned?

"... Sir Jaune, could you repeat that?" Velvet asked, fighting to keep her voice level.

"Repeat what?" Jaune cocked his head in confusion. "I'll talk to Arthur later?"

"After that." Velvet pressed.

"See what stick got shoved up his ass?" Jaune continued.

"And then?"

"That's what Arthur and Merlin summoned me for?" Jaune repeated, wondering what all the fuss was about. After all, this was a world with magic talking swords and mystical beasts, like Skyrim, right? And people in Skyrim apparently summoned daedra from Oblivion pretty frequently; at least he didn't have red skin and horns.

"..." Velvet could only stare at him, his nonchalance, as Aelle's words ran through her mind once again.

"... his very soul was called from the halls of Valhalla, taken from his eternal reward..."

"... anyway..." Jaune decided to change the subject, after an awkward lull in the conversation. Pulling out a small lockbox, he continued: "I think I may have an idea for your lance, Velvet."

"Sir Jaune, I don't think now is the time..." Velvet tried to protest, even as her respect for her mentor warred with her concerns and loyalty.

Then he opened it, and ahe found herself looking at an unusual device, made of wood and metal in an 'L' shape.

"This, is a gun." Jaune explained, as Velvet stated at it, utterly dumb-founded. "Long story short, it works similarly to your weapon, except that it... how do I put this... uh, it fires a metal projectile at high speeds by causing a miniature explosion contained in the barrel and channeling it out through the muzzle?"

"..." Velvet's mind raced, temporarily distracted by the ramifications, and applying them to Ira Lupus, even as he casually created a wall of ice, loaded a metal object into the "gun", and pulled the trigger.

There was a small thunderclap and a flash of fire, and the next thing she knew, the object was suddenly lodged firmly in the wall of ice.

"So..." Jaune tried to get Velvet's attention back. "Think it'll help you work on your lance?"

"... that was amazing, Sir Jaune!" Velvet exclaimed, even as he kept the gun back. "How did you ever think of it?"

"... well, I didn't." Jaune admitted. "Someone gave it to me, before I ended up here. It was the same place I got this, too."

Oh, right, he'd admitted he'd been summoned. She'd almost forgotten all about that, too busy committing her brief look at the gun to memory.

Instinctively, she accepted the proffered object, which she soon realized was a book.

"The Wasteland Survival Guide".

Wait, hadn't his stories about the Courier Champion, Ruby of Ironwood, and the Knights Of Magical Steel Armor all been set in a place called the "Wasteland"?!

She held her breath, as she gingerly opened the book, and read the first page.

"Foreword by Co-Lead Author and Subject Matter Expert Ruby Ironwood"

"Ruby of Ironwood..." Velvet breathed, gawking at the words on the first page.

And most damning of all, the person who the book was dedicated to.

"And I dedicate this book to it's other Co-Lead Author and Subject Matter Expert: Jaune Arc, who made the ultimate sacrifice for the greater good of the Capital Wasteland."

Her mentor's name screamed at her on the page, as the person who'd apparently made the ultimate sacrifice.

"..." Jaune perked up, at hearing his friend's name, and looked over, to see what page she was looking at.

Oh, right.

That page.

He really was touched by Ruby's gesture, don't get him wrong... but that didn't mean he wasn't embarrassed by other people seeing it.

She'd really given him way too much credit for the book in that foreword...

"I said I was going to show you the book my friend gave me, that dealt with survival." Jaune explained sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck even as he quickly turned the page. "I... uh, kind of forgot to make sure you didn't see that page..."

Velvet looked back up at her mentor, then down at the book, and back up at her mentor once more, as the various inconsistencies slowly began to fit together.

His prodigious skill and experience despite his apparent youth.

His unmatched wisdom and unorthodox views.

The improvements he'd introduced.

The expressions on his face, as he'd shared his tales.

"... Sir Jaune." Velvet's voice was quiet, but firm. "Your stories... they were never just stories, were they?"

"... no." Jaune finally admitted, not looking away. "No, they weren't."

"Sir Jaune... just where are you from?" Velvet demanded, fury and sorrow for her mentor's sake steadily rising, as she recalled the threats he'd described, the devastation they'd wrought, before the heroes of his stories (which were more than just stories, she now knew) finally stepped in to the save the day. "And... how do you fit into them?"

"... remember the tale about the Huntsmen and Huntresses, that fought creatures of nightmares and shadows?" Jaune asked. "And remember how I described Initiation, namely how dangerous it could be, using a foolish boy who'd snuck in as an example?"

She did, of course. It was a humorous if sobering tale...

But she could now read between the lines, and her eyes widened even further, as her horror only grew.

"... what happened, Sir Jaune?" Velvet prompted, feeling that she wanted, nay, needed to know, more about her mentor.

Jaune sighed, and closed his eyes, before beginning: "That's how it all started. A young and foolish boy who took his family sword, and ran off to become a Huntsman despite not knowing the first thing about fighting. I almost died during Initiation, and it was only thanks to my partner and my future team that I made it through that first day, let alone the first few months.

"And then... during a tournament between the schools, there was an attack, probably from within. Hordes of the Grimm, the nightmarish monsters of shadow, were suddenly all over the city, the school, and the floating arena. Then a Grimm dragon woke up, and joined in, along with a... fire witch, I guess, that killed the Headmaster of the school. The evacuation hadn't been completed yet, so I..."

"What is our duty?

"To help the people, of course."

"You did your duty." Velvet whispered.

"Well, naturally, it didn't go very well for me." Jaune grinned, trying to joke about it, though the loss still ached, even after all this time. "And, next thing I knew, I was in Skyrim, with the... uh, you guys keep calling her the Golden Banshee-Dragon, though her actual title was the Dragonborn..."

"Did she summon you, too?" Velvet inquired reflexively, trying to keep the disdain from her voice.

"Uh, not that we know of..." Jaune shook his head. "As far as we know, I just appeared there, when the World-Eater returned."

"... wait a moment, Sir Jaune... are you the foolish young boy in all the stories?!" Velvet interrupted, finally putting the final pieces together.

"Yep." Jaune confirmed it with a simple nod. "Apparently, when I die, I wake up in different worlds, as far as I know."

"... and how many times have you died?" Velvet's heart was pounding.

"After the Grimm Dragon? Got bitten in half throwing the World-Eater back at the Dragonborn, I managed to survive the Enclave war in the Capital Wasteland somehow, as well as everything that happened in the Mojave, before an accident finally took me out of the Wasteland... managed to survive the Legions of Hell, though..." Jaune counted off of his fingers. "So, I guess I've died thrice, before Arthur and Merlin plucked me out of the afterlife."

Velvet looked up at her mentor, tears welling up in her chocolate-colored eyes, and for the first time she saw not the invincible Knight of Compassion, the Huntsman who helped people.

All she could see was the humanity he'd always displayed, and the oh-so-tired boy hidden right in plain sight, doomed by his folly to save other worlds, and other people.

"Sir Jaune... you mentioned the King and Merlin summoned you for a purpose?" Velvet pressed, her tone unreadable. "May I know what it specifically was?"

"He wanted me to help him become a good King." Jaune shrugged.

"... but the King is already known as the perfect King." Velvet pointed out with a frown. "So... why are you still here?"

Why haven't you been allowed to finally rest?

"I've got no clue how any of this magic works, Velvet." Jaune pointed out. "The spell was supposed to tell me the terms of the contract and ask for my consent, but I somehow got dragged in without actually saying "yes". As for your question... who knows? Maybe there's no such thing as perfection. Maybe this whole "familiar" gig is until "death do us part". Or maybe there's still something Arthur needs help with. Either way, since I'm still here... all I can do is to do what I can, right?"

"... I see." Velvet replied, kept from swooning at his ideals by the revelations he'd imparted upon her.

"Look, in any case..." Jaune took the Wasteland Survival Guide back, and gave Velvet a light pat on the back, recalling their original conversation topic. "... I hope this is enough to reassure you that Arthur doesn't dislike you or anything. He's just... he's still human, and a boy at that, okay?"

"I understand, Sir Jaune." Velvet replied, tone lacking in any inflection.

"That's good." Jaune breathed a sigh of relief, before stretching out his back. "Then, I'm going to go do my job now, okay? See you tomorrow, Velvet."

"See you, Sir Jaune." Velvet replied, before Jaune left the training arena, leaving her alone with her confused thoughts.

-ARTORIA'S CHAMBERS, CAMELOT, THIRTY MINUTES LATER-

"... what on earth am I doing..." Artoria quietly mused to herself, as she sat in her massive and lonely bed, looking forlornly up at the sky.

Next to her, Saber whined, sensing her distress, and gently brushed against her hand.

Artoria sighed, barely cheered by the lion's antics, her mind instead occupied by rueful reflection, on her earlier misconduct.

She would freely admit that she had been shocked, to find Morgan's daughter wielding the Crocea Mors, and sitting next to her familiar, the pair clearly trusting one another.

Fortunately, she'd been able to slip back into the mask of the perfect and emotionless King before she could do something they'd all regret, and took a moment to study the situation.

Apparently, Sir Velvet had gotten injured fighting the wielder of Crocea Mors, while protecting a caravan from them, while Jaune had dealt with the main group of foreign mercenaries.

Between that, and the obvious trust and affection shared by Gawain, Agravain, and Velvet (and, she assumed, Sir Gaheris, who was currently off questing in Lothian), she'd been prepared to give her niece the benefit of the doubt, instead of becoming paranoid of half the members of the Round Table.

Of course, at the same time, she wouldn't let her guard down completely around Sir Velvet until she'd at least gotten to know her.

That was just common sense.

But for some reason, hearing Jaune singing the praises of his new squire had simply irked her greatly, and she'd spent half the feast interfering whenever the pair had tried to have a conversation.

Artoria's cheeks burned with mortification, as she thought back to the look of hurt and confusion Velvet had given her, near the end of the feast.

"What is wrong with me?" Artoria wondered out loud, ignoring Saber's pleading mewls.

Why had she been so high-strung?

Was she really that afraid of her sister's schemes?

What was a perfect King supposed to do in this situation?

There was a knock on the door.

Artoria sighed.

Kay had already remarked to her that he wasn't sure whether to praise her restraint, or disappointed in her cowardice.

"I'm not in the mood for another lecture, Kay." Artoria called out, exasperation apparent in her tone.

"What about honey biscuits?" Jaune's voice came through the door in response.

Artoria immediately froze.

What was her familiar doing here?

Oh, she needed to act, quickly!

Calling up her magical core, she used Mana Burst to quickly tie her long and flowing hair back into its usual bun, and smooth it down, to make herself presentable.

As usual, the odd lock of hair sprang back up, resistant to her efforts.

She sighed, but moved to the door, knowing the futility of taming that one lock.

Also, she didn't want to keep her familiar and his dessert waiting.

"Jaune! Greetings!" Artoria all but shouted, attempting to be as casual as possible as she flung the door open (almost tearing it off its hinges), and came face-to-face with her familiar. "Good evening! What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to check up on you, and also to bring you some food..." Jaune stated the obvious, holding up a tray of food and a jug of warm milk.

Artoria's mood (and appetite) fell, but she stepped aside and let him in, before closing the door behind her.

There was an awkward silence, as Jaune placed the tray on her table, and the pair took a seat on the bed next to one another, each waiting for the other to start.

Finally, Artoria began: "I know I disrespected your squire during the feast, Jaune, and for that, I-"

"Arthur." Jaune interrupted gently, looking down at the Boy-King. "What's wrong?"

"I-" Artoria stammered, surprised by his query.

"Look... I'm not here to lecture you about Velvet, Arthur." Jaune explained, stroking Saber's mane while the lion snoozed next to him. "I mean, I do think you should apologize to her when you have the chance, but that's not the point."

"..."

"I've known you for over a year and a half, Arthur." Jaune continued, oblivious to the reason why Arthur was keep his head lowered and hiding his expression. "And in all that time, I've never seen you act like that before. And I know you're not the kind of person to suddenly start acting like a jerk, either. So... what's wrong?"

Artoria looked back up at her familiar, utterly touched by his faith in her.

Her mouth opened, as her mind raced.

What should she tell him?

That she didn't trust Sir Velvet because of Morgan?

That the sword Sir Velvet now used had been taken specifically to kill him?

That the attacks at Listenoise and Badon had all been coordinated as part of some grand conspiracy?

Instead, to her surprise, something else came out of her mouth: "At the border of Listenoise... against the Picts and the Scots that were raiding us..."

"Ah." Jaune immediately understood, recognizing the hollow tone, and the overwhelming guilt threatening to break free.

"There were so many of them, and so, to minimize the casualties..." The words were flowing freely now, like a dam had been broken. "... half their army disappeared in a single swing, as I called upon the power of Excalibur."

"..." Jaune simply stayed silent, allowing Arthur to continue.

"After the battle... I tried, so hard, to tell myself that it was the right and just thing, that it had been necessary. But the lives I took... even after what Merlin and Kay told me, even though the Scots and the Picts may have been our enemies... they're people too!" Artoria shouted, unable to control her grief. Looking into Jaune's eyes, she desperately asked: "Jaune... how do I handle this?"

"... do you want my honest answer?" Jaune offered, after thinking about it for a few moments.

"... please." Artoria nodded.

"I don't know." Jaune said simply.

"... what?" Artoria blinked.

"Arthur... everyone handles death in different ways, and you've got to find your own." Jaune explained. "Kay and Merlin were trying to teach you to look at it from a practical standpoint, and rationalize your actions as necessary.

"The Dragonborn told me something similar, when I first saw someone die; don't write their life story for them. Focus only on what you know, on what you're fighting to protect, because the only way you can live with yourself is by staying alive.

"And there was Joshua Graham, formerly one of the top generals in Caesar's Legion, who rediscovered religion, and told me this: In a world filled with misery and uncertainty, it is a great comfort to know that, in the end, there is light in the darkness. Every day, we move closer to our judgment. We must do our best to walk in the footsteps of our Lord and teach others how to do the same. For many of us, the road is a difficult one, and some days are... harder than others. But the path is always there for us to follow, no matter how many times we may fall.

"And for me... well, that's why I try so hard to find peaceful solutions. Because I've had to kill, many times, and I know just how much it can weigh on the spirit." Jaune finished, before placing a warm hand on Artoria's shoulder, and adding: "And that's why I won't ever judge you for letting this affect you, for being shaken by having to take another life. In fact... for what it's worth, Arthur... the fact that you're struggling so much with it is a good thing, to me."

"How can this be a good thing?" Artoria demanded.

"Because I've seen what happens when it becomes too easy." Jaune remarked ominously, remembering some of the people he'd fought, raiders and bandits so far gone, that they stopped seeing other people as people, and thusly became less than human themselves. Then he shook his head, and reassured her: "And you're struggling with this so much, Arthur, because you're still human."

"... I'm not supposed to be." Artoria retorted, looking away. "A good king is supposed to be inhuman."

"What?!" Jaune yelped in shock, eliciting a growl of surprise from Saber as well. "How in Oum's name does that make sense?!"

"A King is supposed to sacrifice everything, to ensure his country's prosperity." Artoria explained, hands subconsciously balling into fists, as a part of her rebelled at the lofty notions she herself espoused. "When I drew that sword from that stone, I was prepared to throw away everything, to save my people! My humanity, my emotions, everything! But once again, I've failed to do even that much..."

"..." Jaune just gawked at Arthur's mournful face, horrified by his inner thoughts, before making up his mind. "Arthur, I'm going to say this, as a friend. You... are an idiot."

"Wha-?"

"A massive idiot." Jaune continued. "A selfless imbecile."

"Hey, that's-"

"You think that becoming less human, will make you a good King?!" Jaune demanded, ignoring Arthur's protests as he locked gazes with him. "How does that even make sense?!"

"Are you not the same as me, Jaune?!" Artoria shot back, even as sapphires and emeralds met, and furiously clashed. "A good leader puts his team ahead of himself, and strives to be the best he can be, because he knows they deserve the best he can give. They're a person who isn't allowed to be a failure, no matter how hard it is... its not just about them. Not anymore. Does that sound familiar?"

"Except that I never once neglected myself!" Jaune defended, refusing to back down. "And that was me chasing a selfish dream!"

As the pair glared at each other, Jaune changed tactics, and challenged: "Arthur... let me ask you this. What makes you happy?"

Artoria blinked, blind-sided by the unexpected question, but quickly recovered. "The happiness of my subjects, of course."

"And that's all?" Jaune raised an eyebrow. "What about when you enjoy food, or play with Saber?"

"... that's-I" Artoria stuttered.

"Does your entire life revolve around serving your people?" Jaune pressed on, determined to make his friend see sense. "Do you think you can make your subjects happy, if you don't even know what happiness is, or what makes you happy, Arthur?"

"..." Artoria grit her teeth, but finally looked away, breaking eye contact first.

He had a point.

She thought back to the fateful day she'd drawn Caliburn, and the vision she'd seen.

The sight that had made her doomed reign worth it.

Many people had been smiling.

But why were they smiling?

How had she made them smile?

What could she do, to make the rest smile?

The lands were all but united or allied, after all, save the Picts and Scots.

The country was at peace.

The people were no longer suffering.

Was there anything else she could do?

"... maybe you should take a break from this whole "King" business." Jaune suggested, seeing that he'd finally gotten through to Arthur. "I mean, nobody said it had to be for your whole life... right? Oum, the Kingdom I grew up in didn't even have a King..."

"... I don't think that's how it works, Jaune." Artoria rolled her eyes, even as she seriously considered his proposition. But who else could become King, in her absence? "My claim to the throne comes from drawing the Sword of Selection from the Stone, and it thusly being my destiny to be King-"

"Oh, don't even start about destiny with me as well, Arthur!" Jaune groaned in exasperation, missing the thoughtful look on his face. Seriously, every time somebody mentioned "destiny", it was a sign that things were getting complicated!

No offense, Pyr.

Artoria giggled at his outburst, before relaxing, and conceding: "Well, I would be foolish to ignore your advise, Jaune."

"Yeah, you would be." Jaune grinned, glad that Arthur was finally seeing some sense. "After all, that's why you summoned me and all, right?"

"... it is, yes, though you have done so much more than I could have ever asked for." Artoria smiled softly at him.

"I know, I know, my cooking's incredible." Jaune replied jokingly, even as he got off her bed. "And speaking of cooking, you should probably eat those honey biscuits before they get cold."

"I will." Artoria nodded deferentially, mind racing. "Have a good night, Jaune."

"Good night to you too, Arthur." Jaune called back, leaving the room.

Even as he closed the door behind him, her gaze remained transfixed upon her familiar's last location.

Who else could become King, in her absence?

Who else, but the man summoned to guide her in becoming an ideal King.

"Caliburn selected you too, Jaune." Artoria murmured, as it felt like a weight had suddenly lifted itself from her shoulders.

Of course!

It was perfect!

What would make her happy?

"Tell him your secret, Artoria. And then start courting him."

It was time to kill three birds with one stone.

She needed time!

Advice, from Merlin and Kay! (... okay, maybe not Merlin, in this case...)

She needed to organize an emergency meeting of the Knights of the Round Table!

But most pressingly of all...

She needed to eat her honey biscuits, before Saber ate them all.


Author's Note: Something something hate dialogue something something why do I keep doing this to myself something something.

And to answer a few questions about the last few chapters... Jaune may not remember the name of his original sword, but he met Caesar in Chapter 60, who kept calling him the Crocea Mors. Naturally, when he shared the story with Velvet, she assumed he was talking about the Julius Caesar, and idly toyed with the idea that Aelle may have actually been right, and Jaune was a Roman in a previous life. It was just an idle fantasy that served little more than mild levity as well as display just how confused Velvet was getting.

And when I started writing this chapter... I did originally consider having anime-style hijinks ensue. But that would have been too far out-of-character. Artoria may be protective of her familiar (see how much shit she gives him for sneaking out of Camelot), but when she panics she doesn't get impulsive. Instead, she abandons her emotions and puts on a mask of rationality to protect herself. Also, no matter what misgivings she has, Gawain and Agravain are trusted Knights of the Round Table. Oh, she'll be completely passive-aggressive, and do whatever she can to interrupt their interactions, but she's not going to have a meltdown in the middle of the feast, in front of all her knights.

Also, when I originally started writing the previous chapters (and looking into the Battle of Badon), I intended to simply let Aelle of Sussex be another greedy bandit. But I realized that that would be incredibly boring, and more importantly his actions would be highly counter-productive. At the moment, the Jutes, Saxons, and Angles are making a lot of money from trade, both with the Britons and from overseas, using their positions on the coast. Why on earth would a greedy bandit hire foreign mercenaries, ship them over to the Britons, and disrupt trade right next to the stronghold of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table (including Siegfried Reborn)? And so, I changed his motive. Of course, with that said, the Picts and the Scots organized by Morgan and Aelle of Sussex do not for a moment believe that Jaune is actually Siegfried (or that Aelle himself believes it). They just think it's a casus belli he's using to justify his actions, and they don't really care, since they're getting paid either way.

Seeing as how it paid off when writing this chapter, I guess some good does come of writing without planning, and flying by the seat of my pants.

Do not ever use me as a good example, though.