So, wee bit late on this entry. Sometimes life gets busy! Sometimes it gives you lemons, and you try to make lemonade, but it turns out they're weirdly yellow limes and then you just look silly.
I don't know where that analogy was going. Enjoy the chapter.
Golden weeping willows crested the hill, limbs dipping into the river as it ran, silent and ever marching forward. The water, crystal clear at the center most point, had been dyed an indulgent golden by the trees along its banks, limbs floating along as errant ships with no destinations in mind. A chorus of croaks cascaded from nearby and small, fleshy bumps atop a fallen log leapt from their perch, disappearing into the river with a soft plunk.
Ahmar waded through waist high grass, leather chaps keeping burrs and thorns from tearing into his trousers. From on high he could feel the early sun's warmth seeping through his jerkin, evaporating droplets of sweat on his exposed hands and face. Reaching behind himself he freed his white cloak from a bramble, deciding to fold it in the crook of his arm until he emerged from the tall grass. Boots squelched as they trudged through mud, sinking to the tops of his toes and pulling free with a wet slop. For two hundred yards he marched on in such a manner, legs churning through sodden earth, breath fogging before his eyes as the air still clung to the chill of the evening past.
Traveling along the main roads was not an option this close to Plockton. Raven would have eyes watching them, either her own or those sympathetic to her plight. The notion that anyone might favor a lawless, feckless bandit over the orderly Church was obscene.
Why did the people shirk their guidance? For freedom? People could live where they pleased and were afforded protection by Hunters if possible. No one was forced to practice or pray to the gods, even if it was encouraged. A horse fly bobbed in his peripherals. Ahmar flexed his right index finger and the sunlight caught something, flickered, and the insect stopped, falling to the ground in two halves.
Because they loathed the Church? Based on what he couldn't begin to guess. Anything the woman and her allies might profess was hearsay at best, the ramblings of a madwoman and her ignorant drones.
It was the Church of Remnant that had managed to bring magic under control, to prevent another Magi's War. Without their guidance the world would be wrought with strife. Magic would run rampant, Magi would lord their power over the populace, creating fear wherever they went, and resentment. Ahmar stepped free of the mud at last and paused to scrape the soles of his boots on a log, scowling as a stubborn clump stuck. Through the work of Ozpin and his forebears they had made the world, one wrought by villainy and facing the constant threat of the Grimm, into something people could thrive in.
Some would accuse them of being dogmatic. Some, Ahmar assumed, would claim they were blind to the plight of the many. Such people had no idea of how the world operated.
Drawing the snow-white hood over his head he began a trek up a hill, willow trees giving way to white birches and hearty oaks. It was the job of the nobility to see to the needs of the citizens. Provide employment, housing, and relative safety in larger towns or cities. Nobles and the royal family created the laws in which every man, woman, and child abided by, including Hunters. While calling themselves a "vanguard" might be demeaning to some, Ahmar took great pride in the moniker. Hunters were the blades by which Remnant slew its many foes. A stalwart protector of order, the sole force capable of ensuring that magic was never allowed to be utilized as a tool of conquest.
Cresting the first hill he scowled as he saw countless more laid out before him, rolling out ahead and dotted with innumerable trees, canopies of green, red, orange, and brown forming a mismatched sea.
People thought they understood. The children Raven had managed to sink her claws into presumed to understand the inner workings of the world. They think of us as monsters. That we're some wicked, vile thing. He began his descent down the hill, twisting his hips and leaning his back, feet digging into earth as he slid along a covering of leaves. Without magic, the Grimm would overrun us. Without the Church, magic would run rampant. Without Wardens we have no means of combating rogue Magi.
Surely though these children knew better than nearly a century of experience. Surely, Ahmar scoffed, gritting his teeth as he marched through briars and flicking his fingers to clear the path, they had everything figured out, finding some wondrous truth to the world that had eluded Remnant's brightest minds for decades.
Presumptuous did not begin to describe them.
Due north of Plockton laid nearly half a dozen abandoned forts along major roads, many doubtless claimed by nature by now. Among them Ahmar knew he would find small settlements as well, ones likely no larger than twenty denizens in all. Tempting as it was to seek one out and take a brief respite he marched on, climbing hills, rising and falling among them like a ship caught in a storm. By the time he decided to pause for a light meal the sun had risen high enough to cast long shadows, catching dew on the leaves and turning the bland forest into a twinkling twilight paradise.
Sitting among fallen leaves he removed his pouch and laid it at his feet, taking out his rations. Hardtack freshly made - not that one would know by its brick-like consistency - and bacon, cured but uncooked, wrapped in paper. The former Ahmar broke pieces off and nursed, washing down the dry, brittle fare with a flask of cider. Without time to make a traditional fire he fetched another, smaller pouch from his pack, and a small, rusted tin pan. From the smaller pouch he dug out a red Dust shard and after a moment of focus managed to conjure flame. After clawing through the dirt he set the shard inside and held his pan over it, swallowing salivation as he watched the bacon sizzle. Pale flesh turned golden, then dark, and when the hissing fats threatened to spill over the pan's low trim, he removed it from the heat.
Welcome though the flavor had been it lasted only moments, and after finishing two strips he licked the lingering salt from his lips, deliberating cooking another before forcing himself to seal the packages again.
Once he finished his business with Raven he would still need to travel home. Doubtless he would sustain some injuries in their fight; the woman was a thorn in Ozpin's side for more than just her foul mouth, and he would need the energy to make the return trip. No waystones, he reminded himself, feeling just the slightest bit sour as he slung his pack over his shoulder again and buried it beneath his cloak. In the event he fell they couldn't risk giving someone easy access to the city like that.
Ahmar accepted that however. He would be on his own and would receive no aid. Anyone else might have balked at the assignment, being ordered to assassinate a woman among her own tribe. Yet as he resumed his trek he listened to the clinking of vials inside of his pack and a small smile crept to his lips. Brute force was not the only means of dispatching a foe, however, and he just so happened to know plenty of other ways to deal with threats beyond direct confrontation.
Honor? He would be killing a criminal. Honor was forfeit the moment Raven decided to cast her lot against the Church and Remnant itself. Honor was reserved for those who deserved it; death would be dealt indiscriminately to those who did not.
The Church maintained order. Ahmar, a white phantom moving among the shadows of the forest, would ensure that order was kept.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Blake considered herself to be skilled at a fair number of things. She knew how to infiltrate a building, to stalk a target through the city streets. Her magic made sleuthing about laughably easy, enough to the point that sometimes she considered not using it just to make things interesting. Her abilities, namely her magic, was why she had often been Adam's go-to for attacking enemies of the White Fang.
Which was just about anyone not in the White Fang, really
.
She knew how to forage and how to cook thanks in no small part to the older cook, Opal. The woman took time to instruct anyone interested in the art of food preparation. She was, begrudgingly, knowledgeable about carpentry, at least in theory, thanks to her uncle's work.
Ruby bumped against her side and Blake's ear twitched, eyes narrowed as she forced herself to stare forward. People continued to mill about around them, restless as they waited for some grand proclamation from their leader. The younger girl let out a whine and Blake reached over, patting her back. To her other side she could just make out a hushed conversation between Yang and Weiss, with the former thoroughly questioning the latter.
Dealing with blossoming romances? Despite all of the books she read over the years she was hopeless in that regard; her time with Adam was not what she would call 'romantic'.
She was sympathetic to Ruby's plight, however miniscule it seemed in the grand scheme of things. It was not her friend's uneasy shuffling that had Blake on edge. No, that had a little more to do with being plucked from her bed long before she was ready to wake up and marched to Plockton's plaza for something. No one knew what really, only that Vernal had declared Raven needed to speak with everyone before leaving them be.
That had been twenty minutes ago. After five minutes Blake had considered trying to ask someone if they knew what was happening. After ten she grew restless as the day's early heat began to build, sweat forming on her skin. It was not the first time she'd considered a change of attire was in order.
"What if we can't be friends anymore? What if this makes things weird between us now?" Ruby tugged on her tattered red cloak; eyes fixed on her feet. "Blake? What if Weiss hates me now?"
A cursory glance at Weiss revealed the girl to be defending herself against a wave of Yang's accusations. Protective to a fault, Blake could at least appreciate Yang was just looking out for Ruby's best interests.
"Do you like Weiss?" Blake asked, returning her gaze to Ruby. She figured the answer was obvious as Ruby's face went red as her name.
"I mean, she's a friend, and we're best friends, so we really get along and -"
Seeing where things were heading already Blake decided to head it off. "Do you romantically like her?"
Being direct was the only way she would get a straight answer from Ruby. It also did wonders to make Ruby go silent, clamping her mouth shut and shrugging her shoulders in a halfhearted reply. Even a blind pauper could see what's going on here, her mind groaned. Just confess to each other and move on with it. I don't think I can handle this.
Rather than pursue the matter Blake decided instead to seek out Ilia among the crowd. It was not difficult to find her despite Ilia being shorter than many of those present. Not far away a group of Faunus stood surrounded by members of the tribe, part of the larger collective but still secluded. Ilia, unsurprisingly, was among them, engrossed in a conversation with a young boy with bleached yellow wings protruding from his back.
Blake had enough of her own problems without having to play matchmaker. Once it became clear that they could no longer remain in Vale she had broken the news to Ilia. Their conversation last night had been unpleasant, to put it mildly. Ilia accused her of abandoning her not once but three times, and it was justified. Whether Blake had chosen to do so was irrelevant and even though she had good reason it did little to alleviate her guilt. That had just been how the conversation began too; Blake had a request to make of her friend, and not a small one either.
Leaving Vale would mean that Adam would have nothing in the kingdom to distract him any longer. The White Fang would likely step up its efforts to disrupt Vale, and in turn the kingdom, and the Church, would begin to respond with more force. The Conglomerate, the Faunus' peaceful and far-less prominent sect, would have its work cut out for it trying to maintain some degree of peace between Faunus and Humanity.
While Blake herself may be removed from the chaos her uncle, Tukson, would remain at the forefront. A very real concern then was Adam could lash out at Tukson and try to kill him as an example to those who refused the Fang's methods. That was where Ilia would come in, and other friends of theirs, should they manage to flee Adam's stranglehold.
Just as she had done with Ilia before she was now abandoning the rest of her friends. Logically, she knew it was the only choice for them. Herself, along with Ruby, Yang, and Weiss, knew enough to warrant Ozpin's attention, and had seen enough that something needed to be done. Traveling to another kingdom would not make them safe - the Church of Remnant existed everywhere, after all - but a change of scenery should afford some degree of autonomy. Besides that, there were evidently others like Raven and Roman, people actively working to undermine the Church and its stranglehold on magic. On the kingdoms.
Logically, Blake understood there was no real choice, that they needed to try and seek out allies. Emotionally, she was a mess, her heart being torn apart at the edges. Family, friends, her home, she would be leaving it all behind. The same could be said for the other three she'd be traveling with, Qrow too. Knowing others were suffering as she was did not help dull the pain as much as she might have hoped.
Ilia, finally taking notice, met Blake's eyes. She shared a faint smile which Blake returned with equal hesitation, nodding before resuming her conversation. Maybe if time allowed for it she would try to have one last talk with Ilia, just to properly thank her.
" - doesn't like her? He's only met her once! I mean he seemed like he liked her, but what if he doesn't? How am I supposed to deal with that?"
Blake blinked owlishly, ears flicking as she felt Ruby tug on her sleeve. Oh, right. Shuffling her boots against the cracked cobblestones Blake turned her head, both to see Ruby and to shield her eyes from the rising sun. Other conversations began to sprout up around them and she needed to lean down a bit to make out what Ruby was saying. Apparently, the tribe was beginning to grow restless too.
"What were you asking?"
"What if dad doesn't like Weiss? I can't bring her home if he doesn't like her!" Ruby paused before her face fell, scuffing her foot on the ground. "I guess I can't bring her home anyways, not anymore."
"Hey." Blake bumped her shoulder against Ruby's and smiled. "We'll be back before you know it. Maybe we can even stop by Patch on our way out?"
Immediately Ruby perked up at the suggestion, silver eyes wide and eager. "Yeah? You think so?"
"I said maybe. A lot depends on where we depart from, and the route we take." Blake sighed, looking to the front of the crowd and noting the absence of Raven still. The woman was certainly taking her sweet time with whatever she had on her mind. "But let's bring it up with your uncle later, okay?"
There was no telling what port they would travel to or what kingdom they were even going to. No one had told them, not Qrow nor Raven. Come to think of it, Qrow had been absent since rousing them earlier that morning. Maybe that was what they were discussing now?
It was a small chance but that appeared enough to placate Ruby for the time being. Blake should have left the matter alone and taken a chance for some peace and quiet - relative quiet anyways - but her mouth opened before she could think better of it. "You're going to introduce Weiss as your girlfriend, then?" Despite herself she smirked as Ruby let out a stifled whine and pulled her hood down. Chuckling, she patted the top of Ruby's head, taking another peek at how Weiss and Yang fared. Still much the same by the looks of it. Weiss was animatedly trying to defend herself and Yang stood by with her arms crossed, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
Their eyes met and a smile crept to Yang's face, followed by a wink. Blake shook her head, mouthing 'You're the worst' and leaving that mess alone for now.
Two useless, what was the word Weiss used so often? Dolts? Two dolts sharing a kiss and then deciding they were unsure of what they were. Only those two could do something so ridiculous.
Ruby devolved into panicked ramblings that Blake left her to. The occasional word of encouragement or pat on the back was enough to keep her from going into a full-blown hysteria; Blake didn't think the situation warranted more than a second thought still.
For more reason than one Blake was glad to see Raven and Qrow finally make themselves present. Vernal marched ahead of them with her head down, a telltale red handprint still visible on her cheek. Less so for Vernal's barking order to be quiet and more their leader's presence did the tribe settle down. Glad for the silence Blake allowed her ears to stand full, enjoying the gentle whistle of wind as it rattled against shingles, passing through open windows and rustling overgrown tufts of grass.
She had hoped that Raven arriving would mean they would finally know what the summons had been for. Instead the chieftain looked content to preside over her people in silence, scanning the few dozen faces gathered before her. None of the civilians they had saved were present, allowed to remain in their homes, Blake noted. As were the soldiers who had defected and joined Raven's ranks.
Knowing those around her were solely Branwen loyalists might explain the murmurs that began.
"What's the traitor doing here…?"
"Bastard, showing his face."
"She should kill him and be done with it!"
"Hope the Grimm tear him to bloody shreds!"
Those were the more polite comments Blake caught. Ruby picked up on them too, finally lowering her hood in favor of standing tall. For once she noticed a look of indignation on Ruby's face, and fury too. One pair in particular just ahead of them were having an explicit discussion about what they thought Qrow could do with his sword. One which Ruby interrupted by tapping one of their shoulders.
"Excuse me?" She smiled sweetly at the pair. "Could you be nicer to him, maybe?"
"The fuck you on about?" the woman growled. "He betrayed us. Cocksucker deserves everything he gets."
"Technically," Ruby began, voice measured, but tinged with just a hint of malice. "You're all criminals. Technically, we as Hunters are allowed to deal with you." Her smile widened and she swayed her hips. "And your leader seems to be okay with us. Maybe I should ask Raven about this?"
Blake hid her laughter behind her scarf as the bandit's faces turned the color of seafoam, exchanging a worried look and shaking their heads.
"Great!" Ruby steepled her fingers together, rocking on the balls of her feet. "So, let's all agree to be a little nicer, okay? For me?" The pair nodded emphatically, turning ahead and keeping silent. Satisfied, or at least content not to thwap them over the head with her scythe, Ruby settled back down beside Blake and exhaled. She must have looked surprised because a flash of worry came over Ruby. "S-Sorry! I just didn't want to listen to them!"
"You're fine Ruby. I just expect that more from Yang. You're usually, well." Blake rolled her hands.
"Nicer?"
"Yeah."
"I'm not a complete softy, Blake. I just try to be nice." Ruby smiled and winked, reaching out and tapping the shoulder of one of the bandits. They yelped and looked back, sulking when Ruby giggled. "Sometimes you just need to put your foot down."
"Fair enough."
Weiss nudged her then, nodding towards the front of the group. Blake nodded, rolling her eyes when Ruby and Weiss' eyes met only for them to look away from one another. Thank goodness the meeting was starting.
Next time, she was making Yang stand between these two.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Raven paced before the gathering, hands at her back, head held high. More than the leader of a bandit tribe she appeared every bit the part of a military commander inspecting her troops. Posture rigid, jaw set, face obscured largely by the rising sun. Black hair billowed behind her, her red bandana doing little to tame the unruly mess, and Weiss noted how she carried both blades at her hip. Her robe, red as a forge's flame save for black streaks, hung off one shoulder and around the waist, chest bound by a sarashi. Though Weiss still cared little for why they had been gathered, impatient to move on as she was, she was grateful for the distraction at least. Anything to take the attention off her and Ruby's collective ineptitude.
The pacing ceased and Raven stood before the crowd in silence, casting an unassuming gaze over those present, lingering on no one for longer than a second. Beside her, having been keeping back, Qrow leaned down and whispered in her ear.
Whatever it was seemed to upset both Raven and the tribe itself. No few bandits began to grumble and voice their dissent. Beneath their breath, naturally, not wishing to draw their leader's ire. Or Ruby's either, although judging by Yang's tense posture, Ruby wasn't the only one they needed to worry about upsetting.
"I'll keep this brief, since I'm sure you have better things to do than listen to me prattle." Considering some had been deep in their drinks on their way here that morning Weiss doubted it. "The tribe will be leaving Plockton soon. Tomorrow at the earliest, and no later than the week's end." Raven eased her hands from her back and gestured with both. "We're becoming complacent, and furthermore, there's work to be done. We've spent long enough here, enjoying the deceased's liquor, squatting in their homes. That behavior is more fitting of wayward souls seeking refuge, not a family of warriors."
"It's those wayward souls that we'll be leaving the town in the care of." Raven twirled one hand and Hammond and Ezra, the defected commander of Fort Morris and his second-in-command, stepped forward from the crowds to stand beside Raven. "These two will oversee the protection of the town from this point forward. Them, and their soldiers. Residents are encouraged to learn to defend themselves as well." She smiled darkly. "Unless you wish to leave your lives in their hands alone."
Hammond and Ezra shared looks of disbelief as the crowd, mostly the bandits, laughed at their expense. The idea of the regular fare of soldiers being made to defend the town made Weiss less than optimistic for Plockton's future. They hadn't been able to defend a fortress with sturdy walls. Plockton had no such defenses, and at best a shallow river at one side as a natural barrier. It would be the duty of the town "guard" to defend Plockton then.
Weiss hoped a few of them were Magi, otherwise the town was in dire straits indeed.
"That's not all though. I'm feeling benevolent today and figured I would offer some of you a chance to enjoy an easier life."
"She's saying you can stay here," Qrow interrupted, rolling his eyes.
"Qrow, I was getting to it."
"I thought you were going to keep it brief?"
Raven glared at her brother, jabbing a finger in his chest. "I am keeping it brief, asshole. I thought you were going to keep your mouth shut."
"Hard to breathe that way," Qrow said, smirking.
Vernal inched towards the siblings and waved to get Raven's attention, gesturing to the crowd. A few people shifted, some cleared their throats or averted their eyes. A couple laughed, including Yang. Weiss didn't dare make a sound; besides the twins arguing it was dead silent. Even the wind seemed to know better, as did the birds.
"My point," Raven bellowed, making Weiss jump. "Is that some of you might wish to remain here, in Plockton. Perhaps you're tired of fighting, or perhaps you've grown fond of sitting on your asses, getting fat and complacent. It's an easy life. A boring life, but one that I can't deny holds some appeal."
"So, I would leave you with this, members of the Branwen tribe. If you wish to remain here then fine, do so. The tribe does not need those with wavering alliances or faltering conviction." This time Weiss knew the pointed stare was meant for them. She met it by standing taller, as tall as she could anyway, meeting Raven's stare with her own. Those around her shied away or dropped their heads, and she ignored the few who turned to look at her and her friends. "Normally, I would exile those who display cowardice, or make an example of them. Consider this your lucky day then! You may leave without consequence. You can remain here, or become a wandering dandelion vendor for all I care."
"I'll be blunt. We will be redoubling our efforts to attack the Church and its assets. We will seek out their Wardens, disrupt trade, do whatever we can to be a thorn in their side. Things will not become easier for us. The risk will be considerable." A grin appeared as Raven drew one of her blades, resting it on her shoulder and cocking her head. "Some of you may die. I may die. But we all know what the Church has taken from us. Loved ones, our freedom, our homes, our peace of mind."
"What the hell is she going on about?" Yang growled. Weiss, feeling heat radiating off her friend, thought better of touching her to calm her down.
"She's eager to get back to what she does best, it seems. Which is to be a nuisance," Weiss said.
"Is she trying to get them killed?" Yang spat. "Is she trying to get herself killed?"
Weiss didn't know. Raven had been given relative leave to operate until now despite her clear clash with the Church. Whatever tenuous reason that was surely wouldn't hold up as the tribe began a new assault on Vale. The woman might be powerful, but she was still only one person. If Ozpin brought the might of Vale's forces upon her, if the king was forced to deploy his own Magi, she wouldn't stand a chance.
"Strength is all that matters in this world. The strength to take what you need, to defend what is yours. If you lack this strength, or if you think your blade dulled, then leave now. If you lack the resolve to give your life so that Remnant might see a future free of the Church's influence, join those here in Plockton." Raven twirled her blade in her hand, thrust it into the ground, and rested both hands atop the grip. "If you remain among our number and you fail to prove your conviction then I will gladly dole out punishment personally. So then, take your leave if you don't think you're up to the task. Go on, I won't judge you."
"How does she think this will help anyone?" Blake shook her head. "At best she's crippling her own forces."
"She's certainly not doing herself any favors," Weiss agreed.
Ruby frowned, rising on her toes to try and see something. Weiss followed suit, and not to her inconsiderable surprise a few members of the tribe moved forward. One by one they approached Raven, bowed their heads, then stepped away. She waved them off with little more than a slight frown and they made short work of making themselves scarce, cutting a straight line for a small street that fed out of the plaza. Jeers and taunts arose and Raven did little to silence them. She might have been okay with letting her tribesmen lay down their arms, figuratively speaking, but she was also fine with letting people's opinions of them be known as well. Unsurprisingly, they weren't kind ones.
Weiss watched as ten members in all removed themselves from the rank and file. A few she recognized from patrols or from battles. Two were older than Raven herself and Weiss couldn't blame them for calling it quits. If they had been in the tribe all their lives then they had seen many battles, no doubt. Even if they were new their ages meant they wouldn't have been capable fighters for much longer regardless.
It was the fiery youths, some not much older than Weiss herself, whose defection surprised her. Perhaps the notion of fighting a global threat was a bit much for their liking. If she were honest with herself the idea wasn't terribly appealing either.
They had a choice though, she didn't. Were she given the option to leave it to someone else Weiss might have taken the same route as they had.
Although the disdain for those leaving was made clear with insults and slurs it was an otherwise civil moment. No weapons drawn, nothing thrown. Once the last of the group disappeared, a younger woman with a longbow strapped to her back, Raven raised her sword aloft and held it until the crowd settled down again.
"Those of you who remain, thank you. Together, we will continue to fight so that Remnant might have a brighter future. One where people like Ozpin do not rule it from the shadows, where magic is free, and where Grimm are all but eradicated. It won't be an easy battle," Raven bellowed. "But nothing worthwhile in life is ever easy. You have risen to the occasion and heeded the call and for that, you have my sincerest thanks."
"Gratitude?" Yang's eyebrows raised. "Huh, I didn't think she knew how to show it."
"And, you have my blade. Some of us may fall in the coming days but I swear to you, as your leader and, as one member of this family to another, that I will fight beside you every step of the way. And should you fall, know that I will carry your strength with me as my own, as will your brothers and sisters. Take heart in knowing that your story will not be forgotten, and that your efforts will help to one day deliver not just Vale, but the world at large into a brighter future. Your role, however insignificant you may think it to be, will be part of the movement. When Remnant knows true freedom, you will be one of the many, many brave souls who is to thank for it."
"We will leave Plockton soon, and some of our kin will stay with them. Take heart in those still beside you. Know that no matter what may come to pass you can find solace in them." Raven lifted her sword higher, pumping it into the air. "Together, we fight for freedom!"
On cue, which was as impressive as it was obnoxious, weapons were drawn and raised skyward by the dozens. The tribe, those remaining, echoed Raven's call.
"For freedom!"
"We fight to remove the blight that is the Church! To avenge those we've lost and may still lose!"
"For revenge!"
"We fight because it's all we know!" Raven grinned. "Because we enjoy it. And because we're damned good at it!"
No words from the assembly this time, or at least none Weiss could discern between the incoherent shouts and cheers. So loud and unruly was it that she clamped her hands over her ears to deafen the boisterous noise, finding Blake to be doing much the same. Could they leave? Weiss didn't see why not. The tribe was having a 'moment', if one could call it that. She grabbed Blake's sleeve and nodded, grabbing Yang's arm to try and draw her away from the crowd. She resisted at first, eyes locked on Raven as the woman continued coaxing her tribe into a frenzy. Weiss tugged again, pausing at the conflicted expression Yang wore. Her friend finally relented after sharing an uneasy look and the four of them cut a swathe through the thinner parts of the crowd, stopping only once they'd made some distance between themselves and the now frenzied tribe. Even from a distance, with several buildings between them and Raven's lot, Weiss still needed to focus to drown out the cheering.
Ruby looked back once more and shook her head. "They're crazy. We can't just let her attack people, can we?"
"Oh, now you want to stop them?" Yang balked.
"What do you mean?" Ruby asked.
"You were fine with letting her and her people do their crap before, weren't you? We were cool with it because she saved us or whatever." Yang's lips trembled and she ran her hands through her hair, exhaling loudly. "If she wants to get herself killed fighting Ozpin then let her. That's their choice."
"Yang, I doubt she has any intention of actually dying," Blake said. Yang did not look so sure and so Blake reached out to comfort Yang. "She won't throw her life away, you don't -"
Yang bat Blake's hand away and stepped back. "How do you know? What's stopping her from going on a suicide mission once we leave, huh? Does she think this is funny?!"
"Yang, we don't understand. Why would you think she's going to get herself killed?" Weiss did not know how this was any different from what the tribe had always done. There was always risk, was there not?
"She can't do this! She's… She's being a selfish bitch!" Yang growled, then suddenly began running back towards the crowd. It took Weiss a second to register what was happening and by then Blake had already gone after Yang. Ruby took off soon after and Weiss followed right behind her.
Blake failed to catch Yang before she reached the crowd. People were shoved aside as the cheering went on, by and large uninterrupted. Weiss and Ruby followed the path Yang carved for them, pushing against bodies and trying to keep Yang in sight. Her golden mane made that easy, thankfully. Although it did nothing to help them catch up to Yang herself.
When they finally managed to get to the front of the crowd Yang had already reached Raven. So lost in their own cheering the tribe either didn't notice or didn't care, more than certain their leader could handle herself. Thanks to the idiots and their cheering however Weiss couldn't hope to make out anything spoken between Yang and her mother regardless of how loudly they spoke. Her attempt to get closer was blocked by Qrow who merely shook his head, reaching out to keep Ruby back too.
Whatever words passed between mother and daughter were brief. Yang, clearly upset, gestured wildly, face red as she tried to make her point clear. Raven responded with anger at first, then after rebuttal, softened. Weiss felt like she should look away as Raven grabbed Yang by the shoulders and drew her in, foreheads pressed together. She couldn't read lips, but she had a fair idea what was said between Yang's face contorting and her body shuddering. Her friend stepped back, or more pushed Raven away from her, and Weiss just managed to catch a couple of the curses slung at the bandit this time.
Just as she began to wonder where Blake had gone Weiss saw Yang's shadow distort, grow wider before moving up her leg. Yang herself looked momentarily surprised before giving in to her frustration again, shouting at Raven once more. Blake, taking form at Yang's side, glowered in silence at the woman, one hand resting inside of her tunic, no doubt grasping at a dagger.
Then, with a smile on her part, Raven stepped away. She reached out to touch Yang only to reconsider, shaking her head and approaching Weiss and Ruby. She spared but a parting glance with them, nodded to Qrow, then grinned as she joined her tribe in their revelry, pumping a fist and cajoling them into another frenzy. Led away from the crowd once more and towards Yang and Blake, Weiss took one last look back at the Branwen tribe. They were certainly keen on getting back to causing chaos, distressingly so. And as they reached her friends, Yang stalking off and pulling at her hair with Blake in tow, she caught a final fleeting glance of Raven. The woman smiled, mouthed something, then disappeared into the crowd.
"Good luck."
/+/+/+/+/+/
Later that day, long after the sun had retired and the moon rose, roused from its morning slumber, it started to rain. Droplets whipped at his back, falling sideways in the harsh, howling wind. Earlier the day had been clear skies in every direction, the air calm and cool. Had Hazel known a torrential downpour was to befall him he might have dressed more appropriately. Indeed, he had a cloak packed away for this reason, but it resided in a saddlebag now. His armor and the clothing beneath was already soaked, his polished metal plates causing droplets to clink loudly, threatening to deafen him. His steed marched ever onward yet he knew it had to be tiring. Large clouds of breath rose from its nostrils and it refused to gallop any longer, settling instead for a slow, steady trot.
Using a drenched glove to wipe his face Hazel leaned forward, squaring his shoulders and squinting. Mud kicked up beneath his horse and his legs had since gone numb, a combination of the chill and his constant riding. Fearing that he would have to make camp in the elements he caught a glimmer in the distances, a flash of lightning revealing what looked to be several homes further along the road.
Be it pure delirium or an earnest to goodness homestead he drove his horse forward, eager to find some shelter. Thunder cracked above, so boisterous that it rattled his armor and his bones, causing his horse to rear back in alarm. He managed to keep himself from being bucked off, barely, and coerced it to continue down the muddied road.
As it happened the homes were not some illusion brought on by fatigue. Four homes sat just off the main road, clustered loosely in a semi-circle, with a large central barn closer to the road still. In several windows Hazel could make out candlelight, and though it was hard to see through the downpour he was certain he saw smoke rising from the chimneys.
People living so far from settlements were not unheard of, although irregular. As he slowed his horse to a trot and moved towards the homes another gale struck, whipping his sodden bangs in his face and nearly knocking his horse over. In favor of not being crushed by his mount Hazel dismounted as soon as the gale passed, grabbing the reins and taking the lead.
Lightning flashed again, casting long, eeries shadows over the property. Fields of wheat turned golden before fading into obscurity, scarecrows becoming little more than vaguely humanoid silhouettes. In the dismal dark that stretched out for miles beyond the farmstead Hazel swore he saw movement. Dark, skulking figures prowling the night, restless and unfeeling save for their unbridled hatred for all things man. Beasts which had not been catalogued plaguing the night with their unseemly visages. Tales from his childhood of hags stealing away children in the night, or amorphous, unearthly beasts attacking unwary travelers came to mind.
It mattered little that he was trained, that between his raw physical might and his weapons he could fell a hundred Grimm. Beneath the martial prowess he was but a man, prone to the same base fears and desires as anyone else. Darkness was ever the enemy, the unknown the greatest threat of all.
Head down in a futile effort to keep rain out of his eyes Hazel approached the closest home, a single-story building, little more than perhaps three or four rooms in a shell of logs and thatch. The window shutters flapped in the wind, slapping noisily against the side of the home, and the door rattled on its hinges. With his horse bucking at another crack he used both hands to keep the steed from bolting, cursing as the reins nearly ripped from his wet hands. Stepping back, he stroked the animal's neck, easing his grip to try and soothe the creature.
When the front door opened, he peered through the biting rain and put on his best smile. How sorry he must have looked; his armor dripped, clothing soaked in the deluge, and his hair, matted, was an utter mess. He looked far less a knight of His Majesty and more a hapless traveler caught unprepared in a freak storm.
If the woman at the door thought poorly of him she hid it well, offering a polite if puzzled smile. Strawberry blonde hair fell to her shoulders and curled back up, parting down the middle of her forehead. Her red gown, unlike anything Hazel wore, was dry, and feeling the heat pouring from inside the home Hazel almost forgot himself and marched in uninvited. Instead he gripped the reins once more, bowing his head in deference.
"Excuse my interruption, good lady. I trust you're one of the residents of this farmstead?"
"I am. And who might you be, good sir?"
"A humble soul who has planned poorly, it seems." His jest made the woman smile more easily, in turn bringing a smile to Hazel's own face. "My name is Hazel Rainart, my lady. I am a humble servant of Vale, and I would hope –" Thunder clapped again and his horse bucked, pulling Hazel further away from the sanctity of the indoors.
Nonplussed, the woman hid a laugh behind her hand. "I'm assuming you've not come to make idle chatter with me?" Hazel shrugged and smiled bashfully. "If it is shelter you're after then you're more than welcome, kind sir. If you give me a moment, one of the boys will help take your horse to the barn."
"I can handle that much, ma'am." Hazel shivered despite himself. "It is open…?"
"Yes. One of the rear stables should suit you just fine. There's hay aplenty inside, and a trough with water. Are you certain you wouldn't like some help?"
"I'd appreciate it, but it makes little sense for someone else to end up soaked to the bone. Besides," Hazel laughed. "I couldn't dare impose any further than I already am. I'll see my horse inside and be back shortly."
"You are not imposing at all, sir knight. Please," the woman smiled again. "Hurry back. We've just sat down for supper."
"Alaine, who is that?" a man's voice called from inside. Hazel craned his neck to try and see who it might be but couldn't spot anything past Alaine herself.
"Another guest, Rostford!" She let out an exasperated sigh and held her hands up. "Don't look at me like that! What would you have me do? Make him sleep in the rain?"
"Bah! Fine, but make it quick! You're letting the heat out."
Alaine offered an apologetic smile, one which was wholly unnecessary. Hazel couldn't blame the man for being a bit put off by taking someone in so abruptly. A second someone, he reminded himself. Bowing, and sputtering as butter dribbled across his mouth, Hazel tugged his horse and whistled, leading it towards the towering barn. Seems I wasn't the only one foolish enough to try and beat out the storm.
It was nothing a little time in the heat would not solve. His armor did not retain water and would dry off first. Assuming he removed his plate, if his gracious hosts did not mind, his jerkin and trousers would take a little more time but should dry out all the same. All he would need to do is spend some time before the fire and, if his stars were aligned right, he could leave before the night was through.
The barn itself was three stories, towering over the homes around it. Red paint flaked away, bare wood turned dark by the rain. Trudging through soiled tufts of hay, greaves heavy in mud, Hazel grabbed the door in one hand and heaved. Well-oiled hinges swung silently - or maybe they were drowned out by the subsequent thunderclap - and dry, warm air spilled out. Horses and cows inside cried out in protest and the unmistakable stench of animal refuse burned his nostrils. Coughing, he waved a hand in front of his face and led his mount inside, past the already stabled beasts of burden. The stalls were a great deal smaller than his steed was used to, not to mention considerably less well kept, but it would have to do. After removing saddlebags from his steed Hazel forced his cold fingers to undo the finer ties, removing layered armor plating from his mount and resting it over the stall's wall. Finally, he removed his gauntlets, setting them with the horse's armor, checking the empty sockets for debris before nodding, satisfied.
Relieved from its burden, his horse shook itself dry and promptly went to feasting.
His own stomach growled, and he considered removing some of his rations from the saddlebag. With the promise of a hot meal awaiting him inside however and a host willing to share it was an easy choice to make. Leaving the rations be, Hazel beat a hasty retreat out of the barn, sealing it before jogging across the way. When he knocked on the door it took only a moment for someone to answer, this time a young girl with the same hair as her mother, face covered in freckles. Offering a near toothless smile - most of the missing ones were baby teeth, he hoped - she stepped aside to let him in.
Conversation paused at his entry and Hazel lingered by the door even as it closed, dripping on the stone floor. It was, all things considered, a lovely home. Simple, with what looked like a single large room separated by partitions made of logs, but homely. A fireplace to his left along with the kitchen radiated heat, not to mention held a tantalizing mix of aromas that made him salivate. Ahead of him was the common room, a few benches circling a low firepit in the center, and a bookshelf, one shelf slanted, whose space was claimed by tools and knickknacks rather than pieces of literature. On his right was a room, the only room, separated by another door. The bedroom, if he had to guess, which served to house the whole family of four.
"Thank you again for your kindness. I promise I won't stay overlong," Hazel shook himself out before approaching the kitchen, chuckling as the small girl raced ahead of him. "It is a pleasure to meet you all. As I told your mother, my name is Hazel Rainart. Pleased to…"
Rounding the corner, he stopped in the doorway, eyebrows raising. The husband, Rostford, stared at him uncertainly, face largely hidden behind a rust red beard. A young boy no more than ten years swung his legs in a chair beside his father, mouth stuffed with food.
Hazel paid them no mind. His eyes were fixed on the man at the far end of the table, his sharp features drawn into an indecipherable mask. One eye stared back unblinking, and Hazel's eyes drifted to the knife in the man's hand. Innocuous, harmless by most accounts, unless you knew how to use it. This man certainly did.
Alaine stood from her chair and clasped her hands together, smiling despite the uneasy air settling over them, or maybe because of it. "Well, here we are! Won't you join us, Hazel?"
His eyes left the man at the table and instead searched the room for something else. It didn't take long to find what he was after. Against the far wall, still dripping wet, hung a white cloak.
Why was he here? What was he after? Hazel racked his mind and only managed to come to one conclusion. He's after the same thing I am. The children. Or Raven, either was a possibility, although he was far less concerned about that woman's ability to look after herself. With his gauntlets back with his horse. There were the children here too, plus Alaine and Rostford himself. I can't do anything. Not with them here. Not with the other homes at risk.
"What in sundry hells are you two gawking at?!" Rostford slammed his fist on the table, face beginning to match his beard. "If you two louts have a problem then take it outside! I won't have any fighting at my table."
The Warden, Ahmar, if Hazel remembered his name right, smiled easily. "We have no quarrel with one another. I won't be a problem, kind sir."
Swallowing both curses and bile, Hazel forced a smile and looked to Alaine. "It's fine. I mistook him for someone else, that's all. Sorry if I have the wrong impression."
"Oh, well that's good then!" Alaine returned to her seat and gestured to the one opposite her own. "Please, sit down and help yourself. It's standard fare, I'm afraid. Just a simple stew -"
"More than good enough for a freeloader," Rostford interrupted with a huff. "Knight or not, I expect you to behave here. Your rank means little here, Hazel."
My behavior isn't up to me, unfortunately. Hazel smiled wearily and nodded. "I'll do my best, good sir. Thank you."
With a hearty chuckle Ahmar lifted a clay mug, grinning. Even though Hazel sat on the man's blind side he was sure the Warden was still watching him. "To our gracious hosts. May you be blessed by the gods for this kindness."
Blessed by the gods. Hazel snorted as quietly as he could while scooping a bowl of stew for himself. Gods nothing; these people may as well have welcomed a Grimm into their home.
I bet being a fly on the wall of that dinner would be fun.
Thank you for reading, friends, and please take care of yourselves. Stay safe and stay healthy!