Chapter 86 - A Very Familiar Situation


"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Jaune asked, shifting uncomfortably as he looked down at the ravenette.

"Please help me save my people, Sir Knight!" The girl repeated, staring up at him with desperation evident in her dark blue orbs.

"That's what I thought you said..." Jaune groaned, fighting to ignore the girl's upturned eyes.

Oum, he really couldn't catch a break, could he?

Not even five minutes after having thrown away his past life, and he was already diving headfirst into trouble.

Why was his afterlife so complicated again?

Oh, right, because he'd had been an idiot who'd stolen the family sword and run away to become a hero.

Jaune spared a look down at the girl, who was still doing her best impression of a pleading kitten, before sighing.

He... really didn't have anything else, did he?

He'd been trying not to think about it since Skyrim, but this really was all he had, wasn't it?

Whatever he could carry on his back, his ideals, his determination to help people, no matter where it was...

And the knowledge that his actions had, at least, made a difference to his friends, no matter how small it may have been.

He didn't know how much longer he could keep telling himself that, though.

He could still remember the tempting offer that giant spider in Hell had given him, how much he'd wanted to accept the chance to just finally go home.

And now...

Now that he'd thrown away the next life he'd begun to build for himself...

Jaune took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, and keep his composure.

Dwelling on what he'd lost wouldn't help him, not here, not now.

And it hadn't been all bad, at least.

He was confident that the Dragonborn would take care of Alduin, the Brotherhood of Steel had done a good job even without him in the Capital Wasteland, the Courier was working for House (who had shown him just how many plans he'd had), the Doom Slayer was the Doom Slayer, and Arthur still had Kay and Merlin to help him.

The real heroes of their worlds would be fine without him (or so he told himself).

All he could do now, was what he'd always done.

There was a person in front of him asking for help.

At the very least, he could try and not mess things up this time.

"Okay, first things first, I'm not a Knight, so please don't call me "Sir Knight" or anything like that, okay?" Jaune stated firmly, choosing to focus on what he could. "I'm just a Huntsman."

"..." Blake looked him up and down, and quietly wondered since when hunters used swords.

Then again, the man was heavily armed and armored, and she just had a sword she didn't know how to use.

He could have introduced himself as the King of Britain and she'd have called him that, just to be polite (and not dead).

"If you say so..." Blake finally obliged, deciding to simply assume that he was just also skilled in archery (or that hunters from the big cities just used swords instead of bows and arrows).

"Good." Jaune nodded in satisfaction, before inquiring: "So... why don't you tell me what's going on? What do your people need help with?"

He needed information, needed to know what he was getting into, before he could decide what to do after all.

He didn't want to do something like accidentally handing over an ancient artifact and the key to an ancient prophecy over to madman who wanted to take over the world again.

"Uh... well..." Blake hesitated. How could the man in front of her not know about the war that had been raging for almost a century?

"Look, kid... to cut a long story short, I'm not from around here." Jaune explained, deciding to try and be upfront. "I don't know what's going on in this world right now, and if you want me to help..."

"I... see?" Blake blinked, deciding to take his words at face value. After all, he said he'd help, right? She shouldn't look a horse in the gift mouth... or however the saying went. "Foreign invaders are ravaging the land and oppressing my fellow countrymen, Sir Huntsman. With each passing day, the hope of salvation grows dimmer, and the lamentations of the Lord increase, as more and more blood is spilled, and the world descends into hellish madness! How can I ignore the cries of God, the cries of my people, and do nothing as we are compelled into becoming little more than beasts?"

"... how can you not take action, no matter what the cost?"

Jaune closed his eyes and looked away from what he assumed was this world's version of Arthur, as sympathy and empathy warring with apprehensive trepidation within him.

Could he do it?

Would it end up just like how it previously had?

A King who'd thought that he couldn't be human, and...

Jaune clenched his fist, and looked back down at the girl.

He didn't know if he could change things...

But he knew he'd only hate himself more, if he gave up now.

He may never be able to be a hero, but at least he'd never be a coward.

"And where do you fit in, kid?" Jaune asked, deciding to take a more proactive approach this time around. If this world's Arthur thought she'd need to sacrifice her humanity again, he'd make sure to set her straight. "Are you the King's secret heir, and you need to draw a sword from a stone or something?"

Blake blinked in confusion.

Was... was the Huntsman mocking her, by comparing her to the King Arthur?

She remembered the holy light he had emitted, and his humility in apologizing when he'd knocked her over.

Something told her the man in front of her didn't bear any malice.

Was it perhaps a test? A test of ideals and realism, to see if she was worthy of his aid?

Regardless...

"Nothing of the sort, Sir Huntsman." Blake snorted, rolling her eyes, deciding to be as candid as possible. "The real world isn't the same as a fairy tale, and I knew what I was sacrificing, when I took my father's sword and ran away from home."

Jaune choked on thin air, before coughing furiously, trying to clear his throat.

Had he just heard that right?

No, there was absolutely no way...

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Jaune asked, hoping that he'd simply misheard.

"I knew what I was sacrificing, when I took my father's sword and ran away from home?" Blake obliged.

"I see... and how old are you?" Jaune kept his voice as level as possible.

"I'm 17."

"And what's your name?"

"My name is Blake."

Oh, thank Oum.

"Blake d'Arc, of Domremy."

Oh no.


Author's Note: Just to clarify; as I've always said, FATE is the final world. This is still the same world; specifically, this is... oh, about 9 to 10 centuries after Camelot (Arthurian times are 5th to 6th Century AD, as far as I can tell, and Jeanne d'Arc's story takes place at the tail end of the Hundred Years War, in the early 15th century).

Jaune's actions have already had an effect on this timeline, even if I were to assume that Alaya guides human history in a certain direction and things will eventually self-correct. For example, while the Hundred Years' War still occurs... well, just take note of who the Burgundians are allied to, and go see who they should have been allied to.

God, why do I do this to myself... Arthurian legend and the Hundred Year's War was bad enough, but now I need to slog through a thousand years of European history as well?

And good luck to Jaune, who is now stuck dealing with the younger Arc, as idealistic as him, and as stubborn as Blake.

Also when the hell did this thing hit 1.5k follows?