Chapter 4
Detente
Jaune Arc was warm.
It was a pleasant sensation while home, and certainly while at Beacon, where the proximity to the ocean, altitude and northern latitude made for some exceptionally cold nights during the school year, but this was Shion, in central Anima, near to Remnant's equator, just as summer was beginning to take hold. Taken together, the circumstances had him positively sweltering. There was also a numbness in his left arm, a tingling emptiness he couldn't explain until he used his right to flip the thin duvet from his chest and found a tousled mop of dirty blonde hair obscuring his left shoulder. Spindly arms were wrapped possessively around his bicep, a waifish ten-year-old clinging to her brother for dear life.
"Ivyyyyy." Jaune said softly, at once exasperated and touched by the affection he knew his youngest sister held for him. He tried to move his pinned limb, only getting a soft, grumbling moan from her in response. "Come on, sprout."
"Noooooo," she protested weakly, her breath even hotter on his shoulder.
"You're getting too old for this," he chided her softly, ruffling her hair with his free hand.
"I missed you, Jaune," she added, her voice softer.
"And I missed you too, Ivy. But I can't feel my hand right now," he replied, already dreading the stinging that would accompany the return of circulation to the extremity. "Besides, I really need to pee."
"Oh," she stated simply, practically ejecting herself from the bed.
"Why don't you go see what's for breakfast?" he asked, hopefully giving her a purpose other than continuing to cling to him long enough that he'd be able to get dressed. "I'll be down in a bit, okay?"
"Okay!" Ivy replied cheerfully, her bright smile catching her brother's heart for a moment before she skipped off, her nightshirt and pajama pants flapping in the breeze she generated before she closed the shoji behind her.
Jaune briefly sniffed at his armpit, grimacing at the reek he found before he shucked the t-shirt off his frame. Wiping his pits with the already dirty garment, he tossed it in the general direction of the corner, where a few other pieces of dirty laundry resided. Digging into his pack, the nascent Huntsman found his penultimate change of underwear and donned them, a dirty pair of boxer briefs likewise finding its place on the floor. Throwing on his jeans, boots and hoodie, he completed the outfit with the newest addition to his kit; a simple sash of crimson that he secured immediately below his belts, the loose end dangling to just above his right knee. Flexing his left hand to banish the last of his numbness, he finally added the last piece to complete the look, dropping a well-worn curved blade onto his left hip, the scabbard securing easily through the frog on his belt.
Jaune took a personal moment, opening the small window next to his bed and looking out on the sunrise peeking over the nearby hills. Birdsong was the predominant instrument in Shion's mid-morning symphony, but various industrious villagers were also about their work already. The musical chime of hammer and anvil, the rasping rhythm of a nearby sawmill, the friendly chatter of a few old men in front of the inn playing go, the tall, willowy woman in the square patiently tuning a guqin; all contributed to the noise of a peaceful, prosperous village.
Slipping out into the hall as quietly as he could manage, Jaune tiptoed to the privy at the end of the hall, seeking not to disturb any of his mischief-minded sisters, and especially not his parents right now. The evening prior had ended on mostly favorable terms, especially with Olivia's ceremony, but Jaune knew far too well that there were many questions he had yet to answer.
"And just where do you think you're going?" Rose Arc asked from a now open shoji immediately adjacent his destination, his mother working a brush through her long, wavy tresses.
"Just hitting the can, mom," her son replied. "Gimme a minute?"
"I can wait," she said, eyebrow cocked slightly as she leaned against the door jamb.
"Riiiight," Jaune replied with a nervous grin. "Be right out."
Closing the (thankfully) solid wooden door behind him, he numbly went about his business, a long sigh escaping his lungs at that first, glorious relief of the day. Allowing his thoughts to wander a bit in his post-wakeup fog, Jaune couldn't help but wonder what particular point, or, far more likely, points, his mother wanted to cover. Realizing he didn't have the time to go over every possibility without looking like he was stalling, he opted simply to zip up and face the music. A quick check of the mirror confirmed that his hair was its usual, slightly messy self, without a single strand too awry, lest his mother decide to fix it like he was five again. Flushing the toilet, he waited until the rudest of that noise was finished before he opened the door, finding Rose Arc still waiting for him, along with his sister-in-law who was practically dancing with need in the hallway.
"Sorry, Terra," He said simply, ducking out of the pregnant woman's way with all the speed he could muster, getting a mumbled thanks before the door slammed shut behind him.
"Step into my parlor, Jaune," The Arc matriarch intoned coolly, getting immediate obedience from her only son. Rose simply glanced down the hallway before closing the paper-faced wooden frame behind her.
"Where's Dad?" Jaune asked quietly.
"Out with Liv," she replied evenly.
"Are you two…?"
"Good, not great. He didn't sleep on the floor, if that's any indication," she replied, which, given the general lack of couches as a concept in most of Anima, was a good thing. "But this is about you."
"Yeah," Jaune stated simply. "Lemme have it," he added, fully anticipating a verbal lashing. His mother narrowed her gaze at him, and he visibly cringed under the scrutiny of the person who knew him best of all.
"I've been patient, Jaune. Brothers know I have. I've gotten by with six scrollmails for the entire school year. Six!" she hiss-whispered. "Not a single call to anyone but your sister, apparently," she added, none too pleased with that tidbit.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Jaune began softly, prudently not mentioning his trip to Argus during winter break.
"Why?!"
"Because I didn't want you to worry."
"No," Rose declared flatly.
"What?"
"That's not the reason, and you and I both know it," she shot back, far less patient than her husband when faced with untruth and misdirection.
"Mom? Seriously, I didn't. There's more, but that part is true," he replied, his brain scrambling for the words that were stubbornly refusing to come to mind. "When I told you I'd left, and why, you remember what you told me?"
"That we loved you, Jaune. And that we wanted the best for you," she said warmly.
"And that it was okay if it didn't work out," he added, voice dark and slightly pained. "You never thought I'd make it."
"In fairness, I was kind of with your father on that one. You didn't exactly give us confidence. We thought it was just a matter of finding something that clicked with you," she confided guiltily.
"Yeah, I can't say that I blame you. Much," Jaune admitted. "But if I knew you were worrying about me too much, I don't know if I could've kept going," he added. "I needed this, Mom. And I needed you to leave me alone long enough to do it."
"We're your parents, Jaune. It's our job to worry about you."
"And you and Dad wouldn't have marched to Beacon and demanded I come home if you'd found out the truth?"
"I...won't say that wouldn't have crossed my mind," Rose said softly.
Jaune sighed softly, his head shaking a bit. "I know I'm your only son, unless you and Dad are…"
"Oh, Brothers, no. We're done with having kids. Your father got snipped. So much better than having to use...well, you know," she reassured him cheerfully with a suggestive smirk thrown in.
"I...did not need to know that," Jaune replied, blinking twice and then shuddering in disgust.
"You'll understand one day," Rose added with a gentle smile.
"Not at the rate I'm going," He grumbled.
"Regardless, Jaune, we love you as much as any of your sisters. We only wanted what was best for you," she replied, trying to reassure them both. "I just wish we could have seen it at the time, okay?"
"I guess," he answered softly, scratching at the back of his scalp nervously.
"Assuming this is the best for you, that is," Rose said skeptically, hedging her bet in an arena she had little firsthand knowledge of. "I'm still going to worry, but at least it's a worry I know how to deal with already. So long as you actually communicate with me, Jaune," she scolded him, returning to the crux of the issue.
"I'll try, I promise. I can't guarantee anything, though, second year is supposed to be brutal," Jaune added, Sun Wukong's horror stories convincing enough that he at least paid them heed. If the mischievous monkey faunus wasn't just screwing with his head, that is. "I've still got a lot of catching up to do, and the book stuff's never been easy for me either."
"Don't remind me," Rose replied drily. "Do they even hand out report cards at Beacon?"
"I'm...not sure, actually," Jaune hesitated, scratching his neck again in bewilderment. "I can send you my transcripts when I get back, if you really want them."
"That might give your father and I a little less to worry about, yes."
"Okay."
"Now, about this girlfriend of yours…"
"I don't have one, Mom. Seriously, just let it go," Jaune replied irritably.
Rose Arc regarded him with the Raised Eyebrow of Doom™, so named by Violette; a matronly stare of irresistible power that brought her son to his metaphorical knees in seconds.
"I mean, there was this one girl, but it didn't work out. She was into someone else. Aaaand, I kinda blew it coming on too strong," he amended quickly.
"Was into someone else?" His mother quickly gleaned from the dialog.
"Yeah, exchange student only there for the semester. Nice guy, really, if a little bit of a flake," Jaune added softly, remembering the few interactions he'd had with Neptune Vasilias. "But yeah, we're just friends now. Slightly awkward, but friends," he qualified.
"You never know, Jaune. People change."
"Yeah, but not Weiss Schnee."
"Weiss Schnee?" Rose asked, eyes going wide.
"Yes, that…" Jaune began, rolling his eyes before his mother cut him off.
"The singer?" she asked breathlessly.
"What?" he blurted, blinking in disbelief at what his mother had chosen to focus on.
"You remember? Your father took me to a benefit concert she had a few years ago. Backstage passes and everything!" Mama Arc gushed. "How'd you meet such a talented artist?"
"She's my classmate," Jaune stated simply. "Lives across the dorm hall from us."
"She's a huntress?" Rose asked, dumbfounded.
"Yup. Damn good one too," Jaune reaffirmed, hoping his mother wouldn't ask for details on any of the humiliating losses he'd incurred in sparring matches with her.
"But she's so…tiny," his mother said in disbelief, remembering how she herself had towered over the girl when they'd met.
"I know, right?" He replied, hoping for his sake that Weiss wasn't anywhere on the continent to hear him voice such blasphemy.
"Beautiful girl though; voice of an angel," Rose continued to compliment.
"And a tongue sharper than her sword," Jaune retorted, taking the wind from his mother's sails.
"Well, there's someone for everyone, Jaune. You never know when you're going to find love. I didn't expect to fall for one of my patients, you know. Had plenty of huntsmen flirting with me in the trauma ward," she began, her son already beginning to tune out the story he'd heard on multiple occasions.
Thankfully, or possibly not, Jaune was saved from the recap by the star of the story himself, his father sliding open the shoji and startling his wife.
"Oh! That was quick. Thought you were going to be gone all morning?" she stated curiously.
"Guy didn't have…" Renard grumbled before he came up short, his voice switching to chilling disgust in an instant. "What's that?" he demanded.
"What's what?" Jaune asked nervously.
"On your hip," he clarified darkly, the sword and scabbard, while of obvious quality to anyone with an eye for such things, were quite definitely not the Arc family heirloom.
"This? It's a loaner," he stated easily, unsure as to the problem. "Crocea Mors is getting a little work done at the weaponsmith's, so I've got this one for now."
"You didn't pawn it, did you?" Renard asked, raising an eyebrow suspiciously.
"What!? No!" Jaune spluttered.
"Ren?" Rose chimed in, clearly not liking where the conversation was going.
"Shion doesn't have a weaponsmith. Nothing a Huntsman would use, certainly," her husband clarified for her.
"Casian is staying outside the village. He's kind of a free spirit, I guess you'd call it. I was actually heading out to see him after breakfast, if you'd like to meet him. Maybe bring Liv too? He's got some stuff on hand," Jaune tacked on, hoping to at least have a semi-neutral third party present should the conversation turn sour.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, don't you think, my love?" Rose chimed in, cutting her husband off before he could answer, his mouth already forming words. He sealed his lips, fixing her with a firm gaze for several moments, which she returned with a fierce smile that dared him to gainsay her.
"Fine," Renard conceded simply, exercising the better part of valor for now. "Grab something portable, Jaune. You need to get used to eating on the move," he justified, the slightest edge of a challenge just under the surface.
"Sure," he replied confidently, once again shrugging off the skepticism with knowledge of the truth. "Excuse me," he added, Renard stepping aside to allow him through the door before following after.
"Olivia!" Renard shouted, the girl's head poking out from the room she shared with Pearl as he retrieved his own weapon from where it leaned against the door jamb. "Jaune says he might have something for you to look at," he added, putting the burden on his son should the expedition prove to be a waste of time.
"Lemme pee first!" she called back with the discretion of a typical teenager.
"We'll be downstairs, Liv!" Jaune called back, descending the stairs to the lobby in search of sustenance.
Spotting the dining room still open, and still with some food on the table, Jaune trotted over to take stock of his options. For portability's sake, he selected a pair of steamed buns filled with pork glazed with a rich, brown sauce, as well as a half dozen of the small buns with sweet bean paste filling he remembered from his childhood trips to Shion.
"May I?" he heard Renard intone from behind him. Turning about, his mouth full of a third pork bun, Jaune could only offer a raised eyebrow in question before he saw his father eyeing the blade at his hip.
"Mhmm," he answered, nodding his head once to reinforce the semi-verbal reply, swiveling his hip forward in order to keep his food in hand.
Renard took the sword from him, scabbard and all, and began examining the weapon with a practiced eye. The sheath was covered mostly in tooled leather, bright fixtures of brass highlighting the rich brown cowhide at the tip, mouth and frog stud. The leather itself was heavily tooled, with recent material if the faint odor of a tannery was any indication, rose vines being the predominant motif. The hilt was of a single handed design, with a moderately sized steel crossguard and a noticeable curve at the pommel to prevent slippage. The handle itself was wrapped with braided steel wire, exhibiting a deep black patina where the wielder's grip wouldn't naturally polish. He drew the blade, a rasping ring sounding in the confines of the room as brass and steel parted ways. The blade itself was slightly curved, resembling a cutlass, with a sharp turn at the tip as the edge met the spine, just over two feet from the crossguard. It had a broad, single-edged blade just over two inches wide, and nearly a quarter thick. Renard inspected it closely, checking the true of the blade as well as a gentle sideways rub of the thumb across the edge in several spots to test the edge. Continuing his silent evaluation, Jaune's father took a closer look at several slots cut through the length of the blade close and parallel to the spine, a quarter inch wide and nearly two inches in length.
"Blood grooves?" he asked disdainfully, a common misconception amongst novice swordsmen and smiths alike.
"Inserts go in there for small dust crystals. Casian pulled them out because I don't have any experience using something like that," Jaune clarified, getting a soft grunt of understanding in response.
"Is this the best he had for a loan?" Renard asked. "The balance is so different from Crocea Mors."
"He said it was his most valuable piece. A relic that belonged to his grandfather."
"And you believed him?" he asked, again skeptical.
"He was wearing it at the time," Jaune offered, popping a bite-sized bean bun into his mouth.
"So this Casian fellow didn't make the blade, then."
"I guess not? Everything else he had looked pretty well made," Jaune shrugged.
Renard regarded his son for a long moment, eyes narrowed as he pondered the information before him. Reaching a decision, he closed his eyes, sighing softly before opening them again, all trace of ill temper vanishing from his face. He snapped the sword back into its scabbard, offering both back to his son without a word. Jaune switched his last pork bun to his other hand, licking his free fingers before taking the weapon and replacing it on his hip.
"I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, then," Ren said, almost managing to hide his unwillingness to do so. "How far from town are we going?"
"About two miles. Found the camp doing an early morning run a couple days ago," Jaune replied easily.
"Camp?" his father asked, an eyebrow raising in suspicion.
"You'll see. Hey, Liv, you eat yet?" he asked as his younger sister came barreling down the stairs.
"Yeah. Have to keep this huntress body fueled for all the asskickin' I'm gonna do!" she replied with a toothy grin.
"Liv," Renard gently chided. "Choose your words carefully. If you stand around and brag, people will wonder if you're trying to snow them. If you act like a Huntress, you'll never have to remind people what you are. They'll instantly be able to tell without a single word, which is helpful when you don't have time to talk. Jaune, who's the most capable and intimidating of your professors?" he asked, probing his son's life at the same time as he reinforced the lesson to his daughter.
"Goodwitch, hands down. Even before I knew what a nightmare she is to fight. Three student teams simultaneously, if you're wondering, Liv. She just walks into the room and demands respect from the way she carries herself," Jaune added, voice a mixture of fear and admiration for the stern huntress.
"She was always like that. She was a first year when I graduated. Almost the entire student body was terrified of the girl. Especially after she finally forced that Winchester idiot to actually take no for an answer," Renard added conspiratorially. "Point being, Olivia, that a hunter is more than just a person who kills Grimm. They are a beacon of hope when all other lights have gone out. A good Huntsman can walk into a village on the brink of being overrun, and the people there will know that things are looking up. They have hope. And how does that help you, young lady?" her father asked, bringing the lesson to a close.
"I mean, fans are nice and all, but...that's not what you're looking for," she began, trailing off as Renard's disapproving gaze bore down on her. After a pregnant pause, her eyes lit up and she snapped her fingers. "It lowers the negativity!" she finally shouted, her father's warm, slight smile all the reward she needed.
"Which means?" he asked, prodding her train of thought further.
"Less Grimm. Less casualties even!" Olivia finished, her own smile beaming.
"Exactly. Everything about you is something that gets seen, examined and evaluated by the people we help. If they don't have confidence in you, you're going to have a tough row to hoe. Remember that, both of you," he said sagely, concluding the lesson for now. "You both ready then?" Renard asked, getting a muffled affirmative from his still-eating son and a simple nod from his daughter.
Jaune took his cue, grabbing the last two pork buns from the platter before making his way to the front of the inn and out into the summer daylight, the other two Arcs trailing close behind him. The climate was currently tolerable, bordering on warm, with middling humidity not aggravating the sunshine as a gentle breeze blew through the trees surrounding Shion. Jaune double checked that his temporary sword was secure before taking the main road out of town to the southwest.
"So we're getting me a weapon?" Olivia asked eagerly.
"Maybe. Remember what I told you."
"What you drilled into my skull? Yeah, Dad, I remember," Olivia replied testily.
"Good. Just don't want you getting your hopes up, sweetheart."
"Yeah, yeah," she demurred, trotting forward a bit to draw even with her brother. "So what's Beacon like?"
"Mmmph?" he managed, taking a moment to finish chewing the last of his breakfast before answering her. "In a word, hard," he replied succinctly.
"That's helpful," Olivia replied sarcastically.
"And that's also four years down the road. You going to Pharos for prep school?" he asked, his father's pride in his alma mater very much a topic of conversation over the years.
"I dunno. I applied everywhere, improve my chances, ya know?"
"And?
"Got accepted to Pharos, Sanctum, Charter and Signal."
"Nice!"
"The family name does have its benefits, Jaune," his father chimed in warmly, vicarious pride in his children's achievements, and those of his lineage, never something the seasoned Huntsman passed up.
"So where do you want to go?" Jaune asked.
"Haven't made up my mind. I don't have to reply to any of them before we get home, so I thought I'd ask around. Both of you two, for starters, any other Huntsmen we might run into," she added. "Only one I think I'm a hard no on is Charter. Pharos, I can stay at home, Sanctum I can go live with Saph, I guess."
"What about Signal?" Jaune prodded.
"I'm not sure about that one. I mean, being close to Vale is nice and all, but I would have to board there. No way I'd commute from the outskirts of the Kingdom every day."
"And not having any family there for support doesn't help either," Renard added helpfully, his own recommendation quite clear.
"Umm, Dad?" Jaune stopped in his tracks, eyeing his father with a raised eyebrow. The elder Arc halted as well, taking a moment to process his son's query before he understood.
"Sorry," he muttered softly. "I'm still getting used to this, Jaune."
"That's fair," he replied, the barest edge of hurt nicking at his vocal cords. "Besides, she'd still have to board at Signal. Not like she can live with me and my team. Could still see each other on the weekends, though."
"Pfft, like I'd wanna be seen in public with you, bunny boy," Olivia shot back.
"Pumpkin Pete is my spirit animal," Jaune huffed.
"He's a cereal mascot."
"I stand by what I said," Jaune replied haughtily, resuming his walk. Weiss would be proud.
"She does have a point, son. Remember what I said about a Hunter's presence?" Renard added, almost avoiding patronizing him.
"I normally wear armor over this. That's being worked on too."
"Fair enough," Renard replied, wondering just how much the boy was being fleeced.
"As long as we're talking about it, are you adopting the family sigil, Liv?" Jaune asked, both curious and attempting to deflect scrutiny until he had the rest of his currently-being-upgraded kit in front of the man.
"Yeah. Dad won't let me hear the end of it if I don't," she grumbled half-heartedly.
"We Arcs have a proud and noble tradition of service, Olivia. There are many doors that will open to your name alone, it would be foolish to decline such opportunities," Renard replied righteously.
"For the ten thousandth time, I know, Dad," Liv replied testily. Her father, veteran of five teenagers now, shrugged it off with a shake of the head.
A comfortable silence overtook them for a few minutes, the three of them enjoying the scenery as each step down the road took them further into the wilds of Anima. The high grass, as yet unscorched by the height of the summer sun, rustled quietly in the gentle breeze, the occasional snippet of birdsong echoing through the trees.
In a split second, this all changed, Jaune feeling more than hearing his father unlimber his weapon, racking a round into the chamber of its built-in shotgun the barest moment after his own blade had sung from its scabbard. They both looked to their flanks, instinctively putting Olivia between them as two pairs of blue eyes scanned the forest.
"Grimm?" Jaune asked quietly.
"No. Something else," Renard replied suspiciously.
Several seconds passed before the trio was startled by a large, spotted deer bolting from the forest fifty feet behind them, hooves clawing desperately at the soft ground, attempting to accelerate before two blurs of gray leapt from the opposite side of the path. They barreled into the frantic deer, knocking it easily to the ground as five more followed their prey from the forest, the small wolf pack tearing into the unfortunate animal, its panicked bleating cut short merifcully quickly.
"Bet you'll never look at Willy Wolfie the same, eh Liv?" Renard asked quietly after several moments' examination of the forest for stragglers.
"I haven't watched those cartoons since I was five," Olivia groused softly, still grimacing as they devoured the poor animal alive. Her discomfort was magnified when one of them raised its bloody muzzle from the fresh kill, deep amber eyes keenly regarding the three of them for a moment before returning to the feast, one half-drooped ear flopping almost comically with each bite taken.
"Guess we're not going back through there, huh?" Jaune asked in a low voice.
"Not a good idea, no. There's something else at work here," Renard added thoughtfully, shotgun still trained on the pack. "That shouldn't have happened. Wolves in the wild wouldn't have ignored us like that. They'd either have stayed in the shadows, or attacked us outright if they were starving."
"They're not afraid of humans?" Jaune asked apprehensively.
"It would appear not," he replied. "Nice reflexes, by the way," Renard added.
"Thanks," Jaune and Olivia both replied before both men started, cutting their gaze to the girl between them.
"What?" she asked, her shoulders dropping from a combat stance, arms relaxing to lower the pair of punch daggers she'd produced from...somewhere.
"Where'd you get those?" her father asked, his mood unreadable.
"Guy at the fair," Olivia admitted sheepishly. "Needed something. Not like I've got a lot of lien for stuff."
"Hmmph. Well, not like I'm surprised. You'll learn patience, Liv. Someday," Renard grumbled.
"Come on, still a little ways to go," Jaune interjected. "I'll take point," he added, tone bereft of anything but grim determination. Renard merely offered a tilt of the head as his son preemptively adopted the strategy he would have; placing the better fighter against the known threat and effecting a tactical withdrawal.
A few hundred yards further on, the trio of Arcs allowed themselves to relax a bit, Renard's stowage of his weapon prompting his children to do likewise. Jaune cast his gaze about, taking in the forest once more, and saw something he hadn't been expecting.
Renard Arc was smiling.
Softly, faintly, but it was there nonetheless. Jaune couldn't help but feel a small measure of pride in that.
"Hey, Liv?" Jaune began as they continued to walk.
"Yeah?"
"How'd you convince Dad? If you don't mind me asking," Jaune demurred.
"You remember Joey Brandywine?" Olivia replied.
"I already don't like where this is going," Jaune grumbled, far too familiar with the teenaged bully.
"Well, remember when he was picking on Ivy last year? She was terrified to go to school. I told you, and you put a stop to it," Olivia recounted, her voice going quiet. "I got to thinking, after hearing Dad talk about a mission once. The looks in their eyes. Fear. Terror. Just like I saw with her. No one should have to live in fear," she continued, her deeply blue eyes looking into the distance. "I hate bullies. And the Grimm are the biggest bullies in all of Remnant," she concluded simply, voice almost growling.
"That's...actually really good," Jaune replied, giving his sister a soft smile. She had never been his favorite, but Jaune always knew where he stood when it came to Olivia. "Do I need to go have another chat with the little cretin?"
"Nah. I took care of it," Liv stated off-handedly.
"Took care of it?"
"Yeah, about three weeks into the school year, when he realized you weren't coming back any time soon and started up again. I stopped him," she answered smugly.
"You broke his jaw in three places, Liv," Renard interjected, voice a mixture of pride and consternation. "An action which I cannot in good conscience condone!" he shouted back over his shoulder, as if he suspected someone was listening.
"Permanently," she clarified, cracking the knuckles of her right hand. "My Savate professeur said I'd be a shoo-in to move up from assaut to pre-combat by the end of the summer, but if I'm going to a combat prep school, that's kind of a moot point, huh?"
"You'd be woefully outmatched at the professional level, anyway, Olivia. For now," Renard added, trying to soothe her disappointment. "Besides, you're going to be far too busy with actual combat training for extra…" he said, trailing off.
The breeze died off for a moment, and they could all hear it; the song of hammer and anvil, clear as a bell.
"We're here," Jaune stated simply.