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He woke up the next morning with the crack of dawn, rolling over and sitting up on the couch in Philipa's living room. Cerulean sighed, turned his head until his neck popped, and stood up to fold his blanket. He left it and his pillow beside Philipa's door, and moved over to the kitchen, where Guiding Light was floating around idly, with a steaming can of beans and pork hunks on the counter.

"How did you pick that up?" He asked, "And how did you cook it?"

"Um, well…" Guiding Light turned, and reached out with a sort of… Balloon of Light which coalesced around the tin, lifted it up, and then lowered it again. Turning back to him, he said, "As for cooking it… I just set the can on the stovetop."

"Ah." He blinked, "Alright."

"Not awake yet?"

"Mmm." He grunted, turning to pick up the beans and heading outside to enjoy the morning air.

The beans were fresh and warm, and hearty enough to fill him while he sat outside, enjoying the pale blue of the sky and the early morning birdsong. Motion caught his eye and he turned to watch a deer wander along the tree-line, with huge, dangerous - and impressive - looking antlers and a careful gaze locked on Cerulean as he meandered by, nibbling at the grass. He watched it, and when Cerulean didn't move, it huffed contentedly and moved on, trailed by a few more adult deer and some smaller foals.

"Beautiful creatures, as always…"

"You saw them before?" He asked, spooning out some more beans. "On Earth?"

"Similar creatures." His Ghost hummed, hovering at his shoulder. "Smaller horns- Antlers, I mean."

"Oh?"

"I believe they're a similar breed." Guiding Light said quietly, almost distractedly even, "There was an old theorem on evolution, written by one Doctor Ianviktor Petrokon some two hundred years ago. That some modes of biological diversification - for example, arms and legs - are so ubiquitously useful as to develop uniformly. Mammals, too. Perhaps a basic deer-like shape is simply… An evolutionary eventuality?"

"Maybe."

"Or perhaps these are, in part, an answer to the presence of…" Guiding Light hummed, "Not quite my version of 'Homo Sapiens', but Humans nonetheless? Whatever that might be."

"What do you mean?"

"Hm?"

"That the people here aren't 'quite your version of Homo Sapiens'?"

"Ah." The Ghost hummed, bobbing forward and spinning around lazily, playfully. "Well… People here on this planet have powers, simply, which normal Homo Sapiens do not. They are also somewhat more hardy as a rule. And then you have the Faunus, which… Well, I don't quite know what box they fit into."

"Maybe they don't?"

"Oh, everything in nature's order fits into a box." Guiding Light bobbed up and to the side in almost… Almost a sort of shrug, if Cerulean had to guess. "It's a matter of finding said box. That is all."

"I suppose so."

"You know you're very insightful, Guardian."

He shrugged and stood, dropping his spoon into the empty can and chuckling. "My job isn't to be insightful. It's to shoot things."

"Among other things."

"Among other things, yeah." He nodded, turning and pushing the door open to grab the wood-axe leaned against the inner wall. Hefting it, he turned and answered the Ghost's obvious question. "What? It's a wood stove. You used some."

"Fair."

"Tell me about my powers while I work?" He asked, moving over to the cutting-stump and picking up one of the logs in the small pile beside it. He planted the axe in the top and then lifted it up, with the log on its end, and brought it down on the stump to split it.

"Light, you mean."

"Mhm."

"Light is… Something which is somewhat complex." Guiding Light hummed, hovering higher above him and watching Cerulean split the logs. "Some, you already know. Or have experienced. It heals you, and sustains you, and brings you back when you fall."

"It's how you make things."

"That, too." The Ghost hummed, "Beyond that, it can… Mold, into shapes, almost. Do things."

"Like?"

"Well, one I saw in battle could mold Light into electric fury, similar to your grenades." The Ghost answered, "She could shape them into balls and bolts, and hurled them as explosive projectiles."

"Really?"

"Mhm." He hummed, "She always did that, from the first time she learned to use Light. It is my belief that prior experience shapes what you can do most easily."

"Can you teach me?"

"To an extent, yes." The Ghost almost chirped, excited now. It flashed down into Cerulean's face and asked excitedly, "Shall I?"

"How would you?" He asked, leaning the head of the axe on the ground and leaning on the handle.

"Well, for a start, I would need you to sit down." Cerulean shrugged and did as his Ghost said, turning and sitting on the wooden stump with the axe leaned against his shoulder. "Now… Close your eyes."

"Alright…"

"Good, good, now… Just relax." Guiding Light said, hovering just above him and doing… Something, that sent a wave of warmth tingling all through his body, from his crown to his toes. "Now, you feel that power?"

"I do."

"That is Light." He said, "Reach out with your mind. Imagine it taking shape- The first shape you can imagine. The first thing you think of."

"Alright…" It took a moment, but then, finally, he felt something… Warm and tingly crawl along his arm and curl in his hand. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes.

Electricity arced and flicked out from his hand, scoring thin black lines through the short grass and dirt in a cone away from him. The shape itself was… Rough. Long, and oblong, but with a defined grip that dwelt in his hand and what he knew to be a sort of blade stretching out away from him.

Then, with a blink and a breath, it vanished…

"A blade?" He murmured, turning as the Ghost came down, "Right?"

"Some sort of sword, yes." Guiding Light hummed, "And more Arc energy tried to manifest in your other side, but failed. Interesting…"

"What do you think?"

"I think I understand your preference for the axe, now." Guiding Light said, "Strange as it may be, I believe you used a sword- Well, that or something akin to it, as the Light may simply be taking a life of its own there and making something easy to use- Which it is known to do, but-"

"GL." He chuckled, "You're rambling."

"Ah, apologies." The Ghost chuckled, light dimming almost embarrassedly before he brightened again. "Regardless, you must have been some manner of melee specialist. It would explain your melee proficiency even in the fight against the Grimm- You used your rifle like a spear, and naturally so."

"I thought my aim was alright, too…"

"Yes, but the way you moved with the spear was… Different." Guiding Light argued, "You used the rifle mechanically, shouldering, bracing, and firing. All the same, never changing, never compensating for position. But the spear flowed. Thrust, swing, twist and rip- You fought like someone that had some innate preference, one that must have come from a past life's aspirations or understandings, for melee."

"I suppose…"

"You sound disappointed."

"Do I?"

"A bit."

"Ah." Cerulean grimaced and stood, pacing away from the stump with his hands on his hips. "Maybe I am. But I don't know why. It's just… It's like it's just in me. Somehow. Deep down. Like-Like when I said I wanted to use the axe, before."

"Don't stress yourself over it." He heard as his Ghost appeared, floating comfortably over his shoulder. "For now, be happy to discover your strength- The Light runs through you easily. With the fury of a thunder storm!"

"Yeah." He nodded, and smiled. "Now, I just have to learn to use it."

"And you will, in time." His Ghost said, "For now, I've detected some sort of vehicle approaching. You should hear it… Now, I believe."

As the Ghost said, when he stopped talking, Cerulean could just barely make out a familiar rumble and crack of an old, tired engine. Smiling, he returned to the stump and kept cutting.

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Mayor Greyback was… A large man. Broad shouldered, and with a considerable enough gut, but not onese by any imagining. Instead he was stocky and tall at the same time, dressed in a nice grey suit that seemed ready to rip apart for how fitted it was across his chest, with a grey top hat on his bald head and thin white gloves. His head was kept shaved, with short, dark fuzz all across it, and likely kept that way because of the four long, curved scars that gnarled across the side of his head, from beck to front. They were barely hidden by his hat, but the man didn't seem to mind his scars. Instead, his bright blue eyes almost seemed to twinkle warmly in spite of it.

So Cerulean ignored it, too, offering the man his hand as Philipa said, "And this is Cerulean. He's the one what killed them Grimm."

"So you said." The man smiled a broad, toothy, perfect smile. "Mayor Klar Greyback, at your service."

"Cerulean." He nodded, shaking the man's hand and flicking a look to his waist, where a long, bone-handled knife was sheathed horizontally, hidden mostly by the bottom of his coat.

"Ah, just a precaution." The older man laughed as he reached down and pulled it free, holding it up in a reverse grip so the silvery steel could glint in the sunlight. "Never know when you'll need a good knife. Or an axe, for that matter, eh?"

"Mhm."

"Not a man of many words?"

"No." He shrugged, "But I'm practicing."

"Ha! Well, to business then." The man said, sheathing the knife and reaching into his folded suit front smoothly. He pulled out a small envelope and held it out, then cupped Cerulean's hand when he reached for it. Smiling, he said, "You've done a kindness to us, Son. You have my thanks beside the Lien."

"Don't worry about it." He smiled, "It's my job."

"Indeed." The man let him go, finally, and explained, "So, I presumed twenty four of the bastards. At one thousand Lien for each, that is twenty four thousand. I trust that is all right by you?"

"Mhm. It's fine, thank you." He nodded, sliding the envelope into his belt.

He'd count it later, for paranoia's sake, and have Guiding Light make him a pocket or something to keep the Lien in. And, eventually, the both of them would have to figure out how much, exactly, that actually was worth. Twenty four thousand sounded like a lot, after all, but for all he knew a single meal could be thousands all on its own. He somehow doubted it, but it was best to presume the worst and be pleasantly surprised.

"So, with that all settled…"

"Yes?" Cerulean blinked, brows furrowing. "Do you need more?"

"Me? No." Mayor Greyback waved him off, "But another town, some… Eight miles in towards Vale, it's bein' menaced."

"It is?"

"Mhm. One of the mining towns, right outside the mountains that guard Vale." He explained, "Foreman doesn't care that miners are dying, though. So he's not reaching out about it."

"What?" He scowled, "Why not?"

"Hatred." Guiding Light murmured in his ear, "Many dislike the Faunus. And mistreat them, for it."

"That's stupid." He snapped, shaking his head and waving for Greyback to go on. "More."

"Ah, well, a mining foreman, one Alabaster White, sent word along one of our caravans- They buy much of our food, you see, in trade for metals." Mayor Greyback explained, "Less metals means they buy less. They're meeting their contracts with Vale, though, so no one minds. The miners are the only ones going with less."

"Hmph." Somehow, that seemed… Typical. Predictable. Why, he didn't know, but it did. And it made him angry, too.

"We can help." Guiding Light said, "They won't have anything to give us, I'm sure, but we can help even so."

"Mhm." Curious, he asked, "The mine owners refuse to get help?"

"They've put in an ask at Beacon, but…" Greyback sighed and shook his head, beard-braids jostling cascadingly across his chest. "Beacon only sends out their best without teachers, and they only have so many of those."

"Teachers, or their best?"

"Either." The man grunted almost wearily, "Even in a whole class year, only some of the teams will be sent on certain kinds of missions. Rougher ones like this might be, I mean. Hard fighting underground? Danger of collapse? Only worse when you're fighting… It's a lot of risk."

It wouldn't be for him, though - Guiding Light would just raise him again if anything went badly. And with the poor miners in danger…

What could he do?

"I'll handle it." He nodded, "Just point me in the right direction."

"I'll do you one better." Greyback said, "I'll have my driver take you on the road. You'll be there by morning."

"Even better." He said, "Lead the way?"

"Right outside."

He nodded and made to follow the large man aout through the front door, but Philipa's hand on his arm stopped him. He turned and cocked his head and she smiled and said, "Take care o' yourself out there. And don't bite off more 'n you can chew, neither."

"I won't." He promised, paying her a nod. "You take care of yourself too."

"I will, I will." She sighed, letting him go and turning away with a grimace he didn't understand.

Outside were two trucks, parked alongside one another. One was Philipa's, old and dragged, but the other was far newer. Sleek and silver, with a heavy, reinforced front frame and dark windows. It had a second row of seats, with their own doors, and the second row's windows were layered in thin slats of steel propped up just enough to see through, and framed in heavy, reinforced frames.

A man in a simple black suit stepped out of the driver's side and paid them a nod as they came, his hands folded in front of him. Quietly, he asked, "Shall we be leaving, Sir?"

"We shall, yes." The large man beamed, "To my house. And then you will arrange for someone to take the young man on to Ironspike."

"Ironspike, Sir?"

"Hopefully, he'll solve our other little Grimm problem." Greyback scoffed, turning to flick Cerulean a look before nodding and moving to the truck. Lacking any of the warmth he'd shown inside, the man sighed and called out, "Come along now, young man. Time is money, as they say, and I've much to do once I return."

With a nod, Cerulean followed him and climbed into the nice truck, relaxing back into the seat as the older man started to talk about his plans.

"Once I get the logging up and running, Lien will run back into my coffers like water into an aquifer, my boy." He murmured, grimacing as the rough path down from Philipa's house made the truck jostle and bounce in a way it hadn't as much when Philipa had come up with him before. "Doubly so, if you can get Ironspike to start taking shipments again."

"You only sell there?" He asked out of curiosity.

"I sell to several mines around there, actually." Greyback said, "But Ironspike was something of a central stopping point for me and my goods. Losing it… Well, it's put a dent. But you'll see it right, eh?"

"Yeah." He nodded, "I will."

'Not for you, though.' He left that part out, of course. Why offend him for no gain? But it was true regardless. Greyback had banked on him wanting to help the miners, and that was why he was going to help.

"You ought to consider coming back, when all's done." Greyback rumbled, "I can always used a skilled man like you on payroll. Grimm are bound to come back around, after all."

"I'll consider it." He lied, frowning at the ease of it. Quietly, he turned away and said, "Thank you."

"Mhm." Greyback rumbled as they pulled out onto the road. Quietly, he rumbled, "Finally, a proper road…"

Cerulean didn't respond, and Greyback seemed to fall into his own little world as they drove. Which was perfectly fine by the young Guardian's preferences. Whatever the mayor had put on back at the house, now he seemed... Colder. Like that warmth had all been fake, put on to get something.

Cerulean found he disliked the man greatly for it…

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The Lone Gunslinger :

The Lore, mainly. I've not played too terribly much of Destiny's games to color it with that, lol.

Jaws on You :

He can, yes. But compared to, like, iron, steel, bronze, etc, Grimm bone isn't gonna do much. Like, when it's stupiid levels of thick ala Goliaths it is pretty good at stopping bullets. But Cerulean is Human-sized. He can't carry that much.

You ARE correct, though.

MM Browsing :

He died several times.

He's humming a different song- One related to something else for later in the story.

He flew there himself, there isn't one. He was complaining that there wasn't a space ship, or space-port, he could head to for a ship.

Red Demon Eye :

Yeah, it's a pretty metal death I wrote up, lol. Glad you liked it! I based it loosely on what Webknechts do in Battle Brothers, where they come from. If you get a Contract to hunt them, you can find people trussed up in various vaguely similar ways.