True to her word, Beryl had organized a wine tasting for the teams, and, after receiving an "appreciation gift" of a bottle of good claret, Port had been more than happy to write them a pass for an evening in Vale. They loaded up into the Bullheads, Pyrrha giving Jaune a sympathetic pat on the back as he gripped the seat and braced his stomach for the flight into town.

But with that minor unhappiness out of the way, spirits were high once they touched down. From Weiss and Blake trying to outdo the other in sophistication, to Yang and Nora arguing who could out-drink the other (a very wary Ren desperately looking to Pyrrha for help, but she had other things on her mind), to Ruby's very clear nervousness with "never having drank before." Fortunately, Vale had no minimum drinking age (which seemed so strange to her, compared to Mistral's minimum age of 21), and, as a private party, there would be no issue with her joining the group.

But while the mood around her was merry, Pyrrha's spirits remained low. She didn't like this whole situation, that Beryl seemed so confident that Pyrrha just had to see that Jaune was more in his element here, and that still had her rattled. If it was just his family's doubts about his ability, well, Pyrrha had spent a lot of time coaching Jaune through his own self doubts, she could certainly handle an unsupportive family. But this was different: Beryl seemed supremely confident that Pyrrha would be convinced that Jaune wasn't just better suited for farm work, but that it was his calling.

But to Jaune, she kept up a front of cheerfulness. It was what she was most practiced at, after all, even moreso than her fighting skills. He seemed a little nervous, in spite of his smiles, and she knew he needed reassurance and support right.

"Have you led a tasting before?" she asked.

"Not really, actually," he admitted, "I left home at 17 and all, so I really only have the barest experience on the business side of things."

"The business side of things?" she asked.

"Oh, yeah," he smiled, "I've been on the working side since I was a little kid, really. Everybody had something to do in the process, and some of my oldest memories were having to pick grapes or other stuff along the trellises and bushes. But selling and producing wine… I've only been doing that for a few seasons."

Leaving off that "a few seasons" means he might have been doing this work for as long as he'd been a teenager, but it was something curious to Pyrrha exactly why Jaune was so essential to the family business. He had seven sisters, and any one of them, like, perhaps, Beryl, could easily take over the family business if it had to stay in the Arc name.

She would have asked, but they'd already reached their destination. A swanky looking wine bar where Jaune led them to an upstairs room that had been reserved for them. A room where her current opponent was now standing before her.

As Beryl gave her brother a hug and introduced herself to those she hadn't met yet (and Nora asked if Jaune really had seven sisters, and then asked what was up with their parents having eight kids before Ren could stop her), Pyrrha gawked. It was certainly a nice place, looking rather elegant and well decorated. And Beryl apparently hadn't skimped on the cost, with two tables laden with cheese boards, breads, and fresh fruit. As well as many, many bottles of wine, all bearing a familiar double-crescent.

"Damn, Jaune," Yang marveled, "hell of a setup you've got for us. When did you get so classy all of a sudden?"

Beryl smirked, "Jaune's the latest, or at least, he was the latest, in a long line of Arcs to run the family winery. It's kind of in our blood; we've been drinking and pairing wines for generations."

"Hold on," Nora interrupted, "if you've got some super fancy job at home, what are you doing here?"

Ah, leave it to Nora to ask the million lien question Pyrrha was too afraid to. Jaune blushed. "Well, it started when our older sister Saphron went off to Mistral-"

"For which mom has not forgiven her," Beryl interrupted.

"Really?" Jaune seemed surprised to hear that, "I... thought everything was patched over now that mom has grandbabies?"

But Beryl waved him off. "Pfft, I was just joking. Saphron could have burned half the trellises and she would have been forgiven if she had a new picture of Adrian to show."

"Well, anyway," he continued, a little miffed at the joke, "She was the oldest of us, and when she left, I started thinking, you know, maybe there's a bigger future for me, out there somewhere. And, yeah, our family's always been in the wine business, but the men in our family have been Huntsmen for just as long."

That last line felt a little pointed, and aimed at Beryl, which Pyrrha took some inappropriate satisfaction in. But it seemed that the rest of their group was largely unaware of the context of their circumstances, far more interested in the fact that Jaune was, apparently, fancy.

"Yo, Jaune," Yang asked, "I think the bigger question is: this whole time, you could have been hooking us up with fancy champagne for," she thrust out her chest suggestively, "celebrations?"

"No?" he asked, quizzically. Jaune's density was, for once, working in Pyrrha's favor. "We're an Arceaux classification? It can only be called Champagne if it's from the Champagne region of Vale."

"Which iiiiiis…. where?"

Weiss looked at her incredulously. "Yang, you should know this! I know this, and I'm from Atlas! You're Valean!"

"Yeah," she shot back, "Patch Valean. Which means I stand for Patch Independence!"

"Live free or die!" Ruby cheered, "Don't mess with Patch! Remember the battle of Signal!"

Beryl rolled her eyes. "At least you're not shooting your guns while saying that." Ruby stuck her tongue out.

"I don't get it," Nora chimed in, "what's the deal with Patch?"

Blake, fortunately, cut in before Yang could answer with more nonsense. "Patch was an independent country before it confederated with the Kingdom of Vale, and some people-"

"Know that our constitution says we can still secede!" Yang boasted. "We fly our flag equal with the Valean!"

Nora seemed delighted by that answer. "You should so do that! Hey! Jaune-Jaune, can we be revolutionaries? It'll be awesome!"

"I..." Jaune struggled to find a rebuttal before turning to Ren, "Come on, man, you're supposed to field these."

But Ren just smirked. "I don't know, maybe I'm considering supporting Patch Independence… Perhaps there's something in my Mistralian blood that calls me to support the inevitable fragmentation of your country."

Jaune rolled his eyes, and Pyrrha had to giggle. Valeans had a tendency to think the whole world was against them, which, from their history, might not have been an irrational worldview, but the belligerent, aggrieved Valean was a stock character for a reason.

"So you're Mistralians, huh?" Beryl asked, then turned to Weiss, "And you're Atlesian, I know. A rather international group here: any Vacuans in your teams?" The table shook their heads no, to which Beryl laughed. "Good. We can talk secession or the old Valean rivalries, but I can't talk wine with a Vacuan without it leading to a fight!"

Ruby raised her hand, but her partner whispered to her, "Competing wine regions, there's an old rivalry there," to which Ruby Ohhhhed in understanding.

"To get us back on topic," Jaune had uncorked a bottle, in one impressively fluid motion, "we're starting with an Arceaux Blanc, '97 vintage and using Sauvignon Blanc grapes. Appreciate the straw color, and the little glints of green you might catch in the light..." he began rattling off as he poured glasses for all of them present.

Pyrrha had never been to a wine tasting before. She'd barely even had alcohol at all, much less wine, what with being underage in Mistral. Though she'd certainly snuck some alcohol before, and even gotten drunk when she was feeling rebellious, and, moreso, when she was trying to make friends back at Sanctum. As she swirled the wine alongside her friends, she wondered as to what she was supposed to do: she understood the basics, but it was something she was unfamiliar with.

An odd experience, that Jaune knew what he was doing and she was completely clueless. She took in the scent of the wine in her glass, still in that awkward space of being unsure what she was supposed to appreciate. How even more rare it was, when she didn't have clear instructions on what she was supposed to do or who she was supposed to be.

She was interrupted by Yang's grousing. "Can we finally just drink the wine?" she asked.

"Actually, uh, yeah, you can," Jaune said, "However, when tasting- and you've already downed it."

"Hints of grapes," Yang said with a snicker. "Hope I'm not offending your family if I'm really just here to get messed up."

It was, to Pyrrha's surprise, Beryl who cut in. "Not at all. With the finer wines, you don't spend 1,500 lien a bottle just to get hammered-"

"Most of us wouldn't," Blake interrupted, looking right at Weiss, who merely rolled her eyes good-naturedly at her friend.

"-but we're a rural Valean family, and we know that wine's about having a good time as much as it might be about subtle flavors and all that pretentiousness. Big city types might use the spittoon to not let the alcohol cloud their judgment, but drinking wine without feeling the kick? It's like taking a knight's sword away," she tsked at the insult.

"We could actually split the group," Jaune suggested, "I'll lead one tasting for people who want to learn more about wine, and Beryl can hang with everyone who wants to get soused."

"Hell yeah, Vomit Boy!" Yang cheered. And then she noticed Beryl's confusion. "Oh, yeah, your brother's nickname, he got it from-"

"Let me guess," she cut Yang off, "his motion sickness?"

"Got it in one."

Jaune grumbled a little at that, "Alright, for the rest of us who aren't so interested in making fun of me," and he ignored how everyone pounced on their opportunity there, "how about you take a sip, and don't be afraid to take a generous one, letting it sit in your mouth, covering your whole-"

"AHHHHHH," Ruby choked, "is this poisoned?" she gasped, spitting her mouthful of wine into the spittoon.

"Oh," Jaune paused for a moment, "It's a little dry, but, um, I didn't want to start off with anything that heavy, so, um, I guess wine's really just an acquired taste?"

"Why would you drink this?" Ruby wailed, to the general merriment of the table.

Jaune looked a little embarrassed to not have anticipated this, and, in retrospect, they all really should have. "I can get you a soda," Weiss gently suggested, "and you'll still be able to have fun with us."

And though the wine had a crisp, fruity attack that Pyrrha was rather enjoying tasting, her attention was drawn towards Ruby and Weiss. They were good partners to each other, in a way she wouldn't have guessed when she first met the two. Back then, Ruby had seemed far too childish to really take seriously—something she'd been very much proven wrong about—and Weiss had seemed too stuck up and impatient for Pyrrha to want to know better. But moments like this reminded her that her assessments had been wrong. Weiss really cared for Ruby, she cared for her whole team, in a way that reminded Pyrrha of how much she had gained in finding Ren and Nora and… Jaune.

As the groups split up, Pyrrha's attention switched back to Jaune. She'd been told that she'd see something here, something that would convince her that she was in the wrong, that she had to let go of her closest friend. The wine she was tasting was good, she had to admit, strong and complex in its flavors, but, at the end of the day, it was just wine. There was nothing yet that even came close to what Jaune had here.

Pyrrha was feeling a pleasant buzz that was, admittedly, more than a buzz at this point.

The tasting had now split into the two groups, though she wasn't sure either was drinking less than the other. The first was Weiss, Ren, Blake, and herself, led by Jaune. They were still doing a "tasting," but Jaune had been quite insistent that the wine keep flowing, tried with all the different cheeses and fruits that seemed to appear in front of them. The spittoon seemed to get less use than it ought to, as the table took up an attitude of general merriment. The other group, led by Beryl, had abandoned even the pretenses of a tasting: Yang and Nora were arm-wrestling, to Beryl's great approval ("It's not drinking until someone fights!" was her exact words) while Ruby, too distrustful of wine to try another sip, gorged herself on different cheese and charcuterie boards.

But even with all the excitement around her, Pyrrha found her attention fixed on Jaune. She was entranced; hanging off his every word—and not just because of her crush. He… for the first time since she'd met him, Jaune was actually in his element. And Pyrrha had to admit: he was really passionate about wine. Every bottle came with not just his almost-encyclopedic knowledge of his family's estate, the grapes grown there, and the production of wines, but with a story. He talked about his family, his home, the season it was picked in, his childhood on the riverbanks, every bottle had something to talk about.

Right now, they were sampling an Arceaux Rouge, and Pyrrha was finding herself falling in love with the way he said the names of the wines. His Valean accent came out, and Pyrrha had to admit that it was… well, it was sexy. She idly wondered about the name he'd come up with for their team-up attack. Arkos and Arceaux. They were pronounced differently, but if she gave the "c" a hard "k" pronunciation, as a Mistralian like her probably would have… it was a funny thing, "Arkos." Ruby had absolutely no patience for it, arguing that the name of the team-up attack was of utmost priority and he'd just mashed their names together, from Arc-Nikos, to-

Arc-Nikos.

She could be Pyrrha Arc-Nikos, couldn't she?

She sipped the wine along with her friends, but the last thing on her mind was tannins.

"Has a strong, fruity taste," Weiss ventured, holding the taste on her tongue, "aftertaste of, hmm, raspberries, yeah."

Ren nodded his agreement. "That smell of raspberries was the first thing I noticed in the aroma, almost overpowering."

"Are you guys actually tasting these things," Blake asked, crossly, "or are you just saying whatever and agreeing with each other so you don't seem stupid?"

It was a rude question, and Pyrrha felt herself growing cross with Blake for asking it, but Jaune took it well. "Ha, there's always some herding going on, but I like that about wine—it's always a little subjective, a little personal, and it's better to do things in a group to try and puzzle things out together. I've always felt that the challenge is to find a way to put what our senses tell us into words, so we can better understand what we'd just experienced."

The funny thing was, Jaune had no idea how well tailored that answer was for Blake. Of all their friends, she was the most receptive for the idea of socially-constructing meaning from sense experiences, rather than pursuing objective, scientific description. But, like all things Jaune, it was completely accidental—he wasn't attempting anything other than complete sincerity.

He gestured back to Blake's glass. "Try it again, and just… describe things. What does it remind you of, where does your mind go to when you taste it?"

Hesitantly, she took another sip of the dark crimson wine. "It's a little, um, I think- Is, um, I know 'smoky' is a wine word," Jaune nodded for her to keep going, "and so there's a bit of that smoke taste in there? Like… like the bonfires back home, we'd make these big fires for celebrations, and I remember how the smoke used to sting my eyes and I could taste it for like, the whole next day afterwards, but I had to get close to the fire to prove that I wasn't..." she trailed off, blushing for having revealed a piece of her closely-guarded past.

Though Jaune only nodded in response. "Yeah, smoky is definitely a wine term, and I agree with your take. It comes from the oak barrels we age them in, actually, and some vintages are powerfully oaky. Those bottles are more of an acquired taste, but my dad swears by it."

"What do you taste in it?" Weiss asked, a hint of honest curiosity in her voice.

Jaune just smiled. "I mean, you might make fun of me for it, but… it tastes like home."

"Total cop out," Blake griped.

But Jaune just played it off with a laugh. "Every glass of wine has the terroir of the Arceaux countryside in it. Watered by the river I grew up next to, every grape picked by someone in our community, someone who's eaten at our table, every cask prepared by my family and aged in our cellars… a good Arceaux tastes like home," and he said it, his voice practically aching with sincerity, "All places are good, but..." and he blushed a little, "but home is best."

"A TOAST!"

Pyrrha almost fell out of her chair in surprise. She whirled around, something she shouldn't have done nearly as quickly as she did, to see Beryl standing, her glass held high. "Friends, I was struck by something my dear brother just said. Whether you're from Vale or Mistral or Atlas, or Patch," she added with a smile to Ruby, "from all across Remnant and now here in Vale, a toast to our homelands, to our homes far off—but never forgotten."

Everyone raised a glass, even Pyrrha. She couldn't have gotten far enough away from Argus, from her old life, when she left, but looking around, seeing the way her friends got misty-eyed from the remembrance, it seemed that they all had fond memories playing in their minds.

And Jaune was no less one of them.

There's no place like home. And Jaune's home… wasn't here. Wasn't with her. He had somewhere else to be, where he belonged. Where he'd be happy and fulfilled.

Her heart sank. This… was his calling, wasn't it? The way his eyes sparkled when he talked excitedly about the harvest, about the whole community coming together, or how he'd just walked them patiently through the art of wine tasting. Beryl was… she was right. She glanced to her partner, but it was painful to think of him in those terms. So she downed her glass, and poured herself another one.

She was the Invincible Girl, a master of so many forms of combat, so much media training, and so many virtues to aid her as a Huntress. But in all that, she had never learned how to lose.

There was something amusing in helping all of his very intoxicated friends back to the dorms. Jaune had grown up with wine at every meal since he was a child, and he had long since learned how to hold his liquor. But loading them up in the Bullhead where, for once, he wasn't the only one feeling queasy as it took to the sky? Well, he took some satisfaction from that.

Surprisingly, Yang, Nora, and Ruby were the ones handling it best. His group was almost completely out, with Ren nearly falling asleep on Nora's shoulder. Ruby, fortunately, had snapped a quick photo of the scene, which he was sure to request for his scroll later. Blake and Weiss were also pleasantly sleepy, while Pyrrha…

"Mmmm, Jaaaaaaune," she said, running her fingers up his arm, "when did you get so stroooooong~"

He brushed a stray hair from her face, and the girl nearly swooned into his arms. It was rare to see this side of Pyrrha, the sweet, fun loving girl who liked teasing him. Liked teasing him a lot, considering the way she was nearly feeling him up as they walked back to the dorms, which was really starting to put Jaune in a state of mind he really shouldn't be entertaining.

But it wasn't long before they got back to the dorms. Helping Pyrrha stumble up the steps, keeping Nora from acting on her "Great Idea" to go fight Cardin, and, of all people, stopping Ren from wandering off because he saw a cat; it was all a lot more work than Jaune might have expected from his teammates, and yet, he couldn't help but feel a deep affection for all of them. And as Pyrrha leaned on him heavily as he opened the door, he realized, that there was-

"Jaune, a moment?"

He turned to Beryl, standing in the hallway. She'd come along to help him guide his friends on the flight back—a critical help, especially considering that, wholly sober, Ruby was far too jittery from all the soda she drank to be of much help.

But he felt Pyrrha's hand on his arm, and he turned back to her. "Jaune..." she squeezed her eyes shut tight, then whispered, "Just… don't. Please."

Something about the way she said it made Jaune want to pull her into a tight hug, to tell her everything would be alright, that she had nothing to fear. But… she was drunk, and Jaune… shouldn't risk liberties. Even something as small as this wasn't worth jeopardizing what they had. "It'll be fine," he reassured her, "I'll just talk to her real quick, then I'll be back," and then he passed her on to Nora and went back into the hall.

He looked to Beryl warily. She was always the cautious one in the family, the one who calculated all the odds before doing anything. Where Jaune was the romantic or Saphron the adventurous, she was the business-minded one, who tallied her ledgers and never acted before thinking. And Jaune knew very well not to underestimate her, especially after a night of drinking—wine just seemed to sharpen her incisiveness.

And yet, her expression was just his sister's honest, sweet smile. "You really do love them, don't you?"

That… wasn't what he was expecting. But, he sighed, it was true. "Honestly… they feel like family, you know? N-not that you're not, or being replaced or anything!" he quickly corrected, "But… "

"I know what you mean," she said. "You're a lot better at making friends than any of us expected, honestly."

"It's like Mom always said," he shrugged, though a little miffed at the lack of faith, "a stranger's just a-"

"Friend you haven't met. Yes, she's my mother too, Jaune. But… you're doing well here. I really thought I'd be pulling you out of the fire, but Yang and Ruby and Nora certainly thought very highly of you."

As much as he appreciated hearing that his friends believed in him, Jaune tensed at that. Beryl didn't sound like she was conceding. "Alright, Beryl," he started, guard up. Just like Pyrrha taught you, he thought. "There's something you expected from tonight, so you might as well just let me know."

She nodded, respectfully, almost appreciating his forthrightness. "Fair enough. I wanted to remind you that this isn't just a family obligation, Jaune. Wine's in your blood—it's something important to you, something you care about, and even more so, Arceaux is your home, Jaune. And from what I saw tonight, you can't hide from me how dearly you love it."

He gave her an equal nod, readying his counter. "Yeah, that's true," and he meant it. He knew the reason he'd kept mum about this part of his past, this crucial part of his self, from Pyrrha and the rest was because he knew it would inspire that deep sense of longing he was now feeling. "But there's more on the line than just me, Beryl. If I'm a Huntsman… I can help people in a way I couldn't in a winery. It's a dangerous world, and we need everyone we can who can fight out there!"

"Yes, as a Huntsman, you would protect the community, I don't contest that." Something about her words reminded Jaune of his father, and the haunted way he spoke of his Huntsman days. "But what is a community without its traditions? We're the center of our community—the chateau keeps people employed, our wine is where our region looks to for its pride, its identity, and it gives our people a sense of their history. We're an institution, Jaune: we belong to the people of Arceaux. Our family has been integral to creating what we fight for, what the people of Arceaux draw their strength from, and that is as much a way to protect our community as fighting monsters with a sword! Jaune, Dad taught you-"

"Dad taught all of us!" he shot back, not liking another reminder of his father.

But Beryl was expecting it. "And you took to it better than anyone in the family." And Jaune, never good at taking compliments in general, much less about the family business, could only blush. "You've got a real knack for viticulture, for winemaking, for managing the estate—there's a reason dad was giving you responsibilities like you got when you were 14! I never was put in charge of anything until I was 18, but you've really got a talent, Jaune."

He seethed. "And I'm sure the fact that if I take it over, you can pursue your own dreams isn't a factor in this?"

"You think I don't want to inherit our family's incredibly successful winery?" she looked at him dismissively, "I'm doing this because you're my brother, Jaune, because I think you're making a mistake you'll regret for the rest of your life. Because I think what's best for our family is for the best Arc to take up the reigns once mom and dad retire. And believe me: your friends noticed that wine is your passion."

He flinched at those last two points. The first, because he really didn't want to think of that fact that his folks were, inescapably, getting older, and the second because… because he had seen that look on Pyrrha's face. Alcohol had dulled her well-practiced polite neutrality, and so he could see through the mask and see what she was really feeling. He wanted to tell her all about his life, about his home, his passions… and he realized that Pyrrha, his most ardent supporter at Beacon, had realized… that Beryl was right.

Beryl didn't seem particularly smug at his realization, though. "Just… consider it, okay? You have a family back home, and we need you, Jaune."

He nodded. "I… hear you, Beryl, I'm not… I'm not just being petulant. Becoming a Huntsman is important to me, and," he felt his cheeks grow warm as he surely began to blush, "there's some things here I can't… just leave behind, okay?"

Beryl looked at him, the way she always did when she had seen through all the angles and knew the ideal point to strike, the look that seemed to chop him apart into a hundred thin slices for analysis. But instead of some crushing insight or trenchant bon mot, instead she just gave him a wistful smile. "I think I saw what you were talking about. But… Let's talk tomorrow, Jaune. I think one of those… things you can't leave behind might have something to say to you about that."

He was going to ask her to clarify, but the door behind him flung open, and a panicked Nora whirled him around and clasped him by the shoulders. "Jaune!" she cried, her voice slurring more than he remembered when he was walking her back, "Oh thank the Brothers! I couldn't find you in the room and I thought we left you at the bar!"

He wasn't sure how to respond to that, but by the time he turned back, Beryl was gone.