In a guest room adorned in taxidermied beasts, Weiss stared miserably into the embers of the fireplace, Sir Port sitting aside her as he took drink after drink of his sparkling wine while merrily recounting his exploits. "...And that's when I rammed me axe right into the beastie's mouth and said," he flung his finger forward, pretending to talk to something in front of him while brandishing a crazed look in his eye, "'This what ya get daemon spawn' then I kicked 'em down and cleaved him down from one massive to two mighty bits! Ha ha!"
"Hmm." Weiss wasn't raised to be rude, but she wasn't raised to be polite either.
"After that, 'yer grandfather pulled 'yer father by the collar and said, 'If you refuse to listen to either of us again Jacques, it won't be a wolf getting ripped in two!' Aha, 'yer father pissed himself on the ride back home, I'll never forget his face." The old man laughed, his large belly bouncing in his jolly motions.
"I would've like to have seen that," admitted Weiss, finger thumbing the neck of the wine bottle she sat in her lap, "but my father commands you to stop telling your tales." Her stare lingered on the fire.
"Well I confess, Jacques wasn't the most flattering individual while me and Nicholas were in our huntsmen prime, but 'command' is a bit serious of a word for something like that, don't you think?" he laughed, a bit of his mirth curbed.
She bobbed her head to the side. "What I think doesn't matter. My father is very serious about it."
A chuckle traced with a hint of concern. Port looked down to his sparkling wine that Weiss brought him, but had drank none of herself. "Haha, don't tell me now that Jacques had me poisoned?"
"No poison."
A sigh of relief. "You had me worried there Wei—"
"Venom," she added calmly, quietly.
Port gave a great bellow of laughter. "Either you or Jacques have a bloody fantastic sense of humor, Venom! That's what always confuses the simpler people, Venom can be ingested, it's only if the darn thing gets in your blood that it's really dangerous."
"Do you like the wine?"
He swirled the wine glass in his hand, enjoying the sparkle in it. "Yes I do actually, I was wondering what that kick was that I was tasting, and the sparkling feature is quite lovely."
"That's crushed glass."
Port's eyes went wide. His head turned violently to look at Weiss.
"If you're lucky, it'll pass through. If you're not, the glass will perforate your insides and give the venom a way into your bloodstream. That is, of course, if the cuts inside you don't do something nasty like spill stomach acid and melt you from within." She stood up steadily.
"Why?" was all the old man could muster to say, visage red with fury, betrayal, and fear for his own life.
The heiress walked to the door, steps light and graceful, like she wasn't there. "My father does not want his reputation to be further degraded. Dead men tell no tales, but if you survive, consider it a second chance at life." Looking over her shoulder, her glare pierced right through the noble's bushy eyebrows, down to his core. In a whisper, she ordered, "I would not repeat my mistakes, old man."
Down the hall in one of the mansion's many food prep rooms, this one an area for light snacking and drinking while looking out the window to the garden, Jaune leaned against the wall as he chatted with the asian butler dressed in black. Ren held a silver platter at chest height and perfectly level, as a good butler does. "Sometimes I uh…" the knight spoke, one arm held across his belly to support the other elbow, his hand twirling, "sometimes I like to flick wine on my bread." The two middle fingers of his twirling hand flicked against his thumb a couple times. "I like my bread soggy on the top. Gives it flavor."
Ren pursed his lips and looked askance. A moment passed as he looked about the pale blue decorated room. A slim smile. "I do not know how to respond to that, sir."
Jaune chuckled. "What, you don't like grape juice in your bread Ren? It's a delicacy."
The butler chuckled quietly too. "I see sir, you jest. You had me there for a moment." A nod spoke to his lighthearted humility at falling for the man's sarcasm. Ren was not one to be another's fool under normal circumstances
"Yes, unfortunately I can't claim ownership of the jest. I was speaking to Sir Efraim whe—"
The relative peace and quiet of the room was shattered abruptly with the door bursting open and several teacups on the doorside shelf wobbling off and breaking on the floor. Weiss stormed in, wine bottle still in hand, of which she slammed down on Ren's platter, the bottom of the bottle exploding in every direction. Glass chock full of wine spilled around the plate onto Ren's arm and shoes. Rage still strong in Weiss's face, she grabbed the crookedly sitting bottleneck again and threw it against the wall, Jaune and Ren raising a hand to their face to shield against the glass spraying everywhere.
From across the room, the heiress pointed at the butler's face, "Tell my father that his pride remains chaste!" she yelled through gritted teeth.
His mask of stoicism held strong. "Lord Jacques will likely not appreciate the task being referred to as thus."
Her clothes rustled as she strutted forward, stepping in close into Ren's personal space as she grabbed him by the collar. She whispered seething words inches from his face, "Tell my father… my duty is complete." Weiss let go as much as she pushed the taller fellow away, turning tail and storming back out of the room.
The knight, still leaning against the wall, threw up his hands in surrender and raised his brows, Ren shrugging in response. With their nonverbal conversation over, Jaune followed Weiss out of the room while the butler brushed glass particles off his lapel.
Catching up to the heiress, the knight took his regular place just behind and to the right of his master, matching his footsteps to her's for that professional echo expected from royal carpet walks and military marches. "I'm not sure how to feel about the prospect of Sir Port no longer being one among the living. I'm going to miss his boastful tales."
Weiss took a deep breath. Then she took another. She still sounded angry. "According to our assassination records, no one has been killed by powdered glass. I'm not saying it's impossible, but our Sir Port should be fine."
"So it was just a scare tactic?"
"Yes."
"Why are you so angry Weiss? Is it because of something else or…" he lowered his voice as he kept up with her furious stride, "Is it just because of your father?"
The girl grabbed her own wrist, covering the paler underside while clenching her free hand into a fist. "Keep to yerself Sir Arc."
"Hmm. It's been a week since I last saw you cover your wrists."
Midstep, Weiss pivoted and punched the young man in the gut, then went on her way again. Jaune, not a stranger to her occasional outbursts, flexed his stomach and took her blow well enough, stumbling backwards only a little and coughing mildly. He took his spot behind her once more, this time in silence.
Ruby was waiting patiently in the empty training hall, a large room with lanes meant for sparring sketched into the bouncy wood floor, racks of different shapes and sizes of weapons lining the walls, and a wall of windows facing the rising sun in the east, a checkered pattern of shadows and orange light coloring the floor. She sat in the middle, donned in her leather sans her hat, when the doors at the south end opened up, Weiss with Jaune in tow. The white haired hunter lobbed an apple at Ruby without warning, the latter catching it in her left hand.
"So you're left handed?" asked Weiss.
"No," corrected Ruby, standing up and tossing the apple to the other hand, "I'm dexter, not sinister." She had a self satisfied grin.
"While I'm impressed with both the catch and the understanding of dexter and sinister, those terms are exclusive to heraldry, and your attempt to impress me pedantically fails in it's erroneous exploitation of erudite lexicon," stated Weiss in a matter of fact way.
Jaune and Ruby stared blankly at the fancy word-using hunter. It was Weiss's turn to be self satisfied.
"Ruby, daughter of Rose, try squeezing that apple there in your hand." She walked to the wall with wooden swords.
"Yes my Lord." Not expecting much, the wolf girl firmly grasped the fruit in her right hand and squeezed, her fingers sinking somewhat into the firm apple much to her surprise.
She grabbed two wooden swords, one gladius, or rather a short sword, and a longsword. "Did you manage to dent it at all?" she called out to her apprentice.
A little bewildered, she stuttered in her call back across the room, "Uh-uhm- uh, yes, a little more than dent even."
"Good." Weiss approached the center, a spring in her step and not at all phased by the result. "You shouldn't be monstrously strong at the moment but you should have a clear edge. Here." She handed the taller girl a flask of water and the short sword, then began to pull on her gloves. "Drink."
Complying, Ruby drank a fourth of the bottle and slipped it into one of her many pouches. Following lead, she donned her own gloves and gripped the sword in her right hand and awkwardly held the apple in her left. "What do you want with the apple?"
"Toss it to Sir Arc, make him useful for once."
Ruby took a step forward with a halfhearted pitch and launched the apple in a high arc, no pun intended, to the knight, who caught it in both hands with a little struggle. Noticing that Weiss was center in the lane and holding out her sword horizontally, Ruby moved herself to match stance and position, but mostly gawked at the play sword.
"Hold out your sword like this," ordered the teacher.
"Alright." Ruby did as instructed.
Whipping around the wooden longsword, Weiss smacked the tip of the shortsword and knocked it wholesale out of Ruby's hands. "You may be strong now, but physics still apply Daughter of Rose. The part of the blade nearer to the hilt is called the 'strong' of the blade, while the part farther from is called the 'weak.' Pick up your weapon. For every pivot point, there is a lever arm, and the longer the lever arm, or the farther from the pivot point you apply force, the more torque there will be in a multiplicative fashion." Weiss studied the somewhat understanding and somewhat confused face of the girl. "Did you understand anything of what I just said?"
"Uhmm… are you speaking of how a longer pry bar can lift more easily than a short one? Granted it doesn't break in the process of course…"
"Exactly, more or less. I'm going to strike you, and I want you to block first with your tip, then with the strong near your hilt."
Bringing her right hand to grip her longsword with her left dominant hand, Weiss took two steps forward, each step a sideways swipe from just far enough away that if Ruby didn't block properly, she would still be out of range. Ruby did as instructed, the first blow almost knocking the weapon from her hand while the second simply imparted shock to her wrist.
"Good. Now lets see you defend…" Weiss, without warning, began assailing the other girl with a series of increasingly powerful strikes, the stepping distance increasing with the swing arc, waist twist, and arm speed. At first Ruby only had to step back and keep the short sword in place to block, albeit with a mild look of first time experience panic creeping in her expression, but soon with each blow cracking loudly against her increasingly underweighted sword, she had to strike back at the swings to keep them from carrying through and overpowering her. As she struck back harder, Weiss's sword seemed to bounce off more and lead easier and easier into new angles of cuts.
Through the loud cracks of wood in the echoing training hall, Weiss continued in her lesson, breath gaining raggedness. "Under the pretense of the correct type of collision, the harder you strike back, the harder my sword will bounce. The stronger you are on the other hand, the less you will bounce back. We will start with the gladius, you will learn to appreciate a lighter weapon with less reach and priority in power before I promote you up eventually to a zweihander…" Reaching the pinnacle of her might in blows, Weiss broke Ruby's prop in two, one half flying across the room while the other fell to their feet, the trainee falling onto her derriere. Ruby looked up to the hunter, longsword tip at her nose, eyes wide and breath heavy. Weiss lowered her sword. "Again."
Jaune pulled up a chair and crossed his legs. He ogled the deformed apple, eventually eating it as time passed. Hours dragged on, the shadows crawled across the floor to the windows, and Weiss and Ruby took short breaks every ten minutes, the teacher swigging away at good wine while Ruby polished her canteens of water.
Weiss had Ruby switch between defending, attacking, both, coached basic parries, and forced her to use proper footwork. "Your feet should never cross unless you are covering more than a half dozen feet at a time!" Weiss barked as she sidestepped around Ruby, causing her crossed feet to trip her up. "At first it'll be harder than what you would naturally do, granted, but with time you will find yourself more balanced."
"Change your angles up, you're getting predictable," commented Weiss as she blocked yet another left cut followed by a right cut, stopping Ruby before she could even start the right cut by slapping the sword out of her hand. "Only repeat an exact action if you intend to act on the counter action of your opponent."
Ruby's seventh shortsword broke. "Striking the flat of a blade is liable to break the blade, never let your opponent strike your flat. Your edge will ruin faster but you will have a sword longer."
"Yes sir!" Ruby nodded back.
Weiss purposely locked blades with Ruby, Ruby barely managing to overpower Weiss and throw Weiss's tip low to a harmless space. Weiss elbowed Ruby in the gut and dropped the girl. "Remember, sword play isn't just about swords, it's also punching, grabbing, wrestling, cheap shots, never fall for a attempted blade lock if you're not ready to forgo attacking with your hands. In that regard, you should actually have an advantage in your strength."
Ruby nodded as she held her stomach, the wind knocked out of her.
Dozens of dozens of strikes, parries, trips, unexpected fists, bruises and lessons on the fundamentals of combat later, the wolf girl laid exhausted and in pain on the floor, sweat staining her garments. Weiss stood panting, resting lightly against her longsword–turned–crutch, her waterskin of wine empty to her dismay.
"What is your verdict, my lord?" Jaune yawned from by the south doors.
"Excellent reflexes, good utilization of strength, quick learner. But I ask you, Daughter of Rose, what is your opinion on the gladius?"
Catching her breath, Ruby threw the short sword away from her, the prop skidding across the floor to a wall. "I am sorry to confess my lord, I do not have love in my heart for the weapon." She continued to pant like a dog.
"Yes," Weiss chuckled, "I too am not a fan, but now you understand a form of baseline, the minimum of a sword if you will. Soon I will move you up to broadswords, but tomorrow, you will do short spears." A thought occurred to the heiress just then, a glimmer of intrigue flashed in her pale blue eyes. She looked down to her apprentice. "On your farm, what were your chores?"
"Uh, I was in charge of cutting the wheat."
"How much? How many acres?"
Ruby considered it for a moment. "I cut all of it, several acres worth."
"With a scythe, correct? Not a sickle?" Weiss raised her brow to show interest.
The girl frowned, though not in sorrow or anger. "Yes. How did you know?"
"A hunch. I'll keep that in mind for later."
"Say, when will I get to see my sister?" the black haired girl asked up to her master.
Weiss finally straightened up completely and turned for the south door. "Soon." She removed her gloves. "Can you read?"
Ruby nodded her head 'no' guiltily. "No my lord. I know the characters, but I can't put them together."
A sigh. "Something else to keep in mind I suppose." Weiss left the room.
The knight walked over to the sprawled out girl. He kneeled by her, the tip of the sword and sheath at his hip clattering against the wood floor as he offered a bread bowl of soup. "Imagine you might be hungry. Care for some stew?"
Confusion. She wiped the sweat from her eyes and looked again at him and the food. Her words came out slurred and unclear. Jaune could tell she asked a question but had no idea what the question was. "What?" he implored.
She cleared her throat. "Where did you get the grub? Did you have it the whole time?"
It was his turn to look confused. "What? Yes, I've had this garb the whole time." He laughed a little, and began wondering if he just had such little presence that this girl couldn't keep track of his clothes. It was a sullen thought, but he thought it was more than probable.
Reluctantly sitting herself up, all the pooled up sweat traveled at once down the creases of her face and into her neckline. She grunted to the familiar soreness of hardwork and bodily pain. Taking the bread bowl and spoon, a heapful of carrots and meat began its journey through Ruby's teeth. "Did you have it in a basket by the door or something? I just ask because I just don't recall seeing it." Bits of food sprayed as she talked. Jaune was reminded humorously of Nora.
"What? No I uh…" he gestured to his person, then tugged on his sleeve with no real intention in mind, "I've been wearing it this whole time, I promise."
Her jaw hung slack as she stared at him like he was a foreign creature. "You had a bowl of soup in your clothes?"
He recoiled. "What?"
She tilted her head. "What?"
Realization struck him. He stood from his crouch and chortled. "Oh! Grub! Yes, uh, no, a maid brought it just now."
She found the otherside of the same coin. "Oh you thought—! Garb! Oh, I'm so sorry my lord, sometimes I speak poorly—"
He waved his hand submissively, "No no no, I misheard my lady—"
Ruby shook her hand apologetically, "No no no, I-I- you did nothing wrong my lord—"
They talked over each other in their race to be the one to apologize, neither saying anything particularly coherent, each one changing the story to make themself seem more so like the guilty party until Ruby out into giggles.
Jaune squinted to the side with a unsure smile. "Do I… amuse you?"
She held the back of her hand to her mouth to prevent further food spray. Stifling her giggles, she said, "I apologize my lord, I just…" she waved her hand around her head, "I had this idea of what nobles were like, and there was the hopeful part of me that believed in this fairytale of charming princes and the like, but there was the other part that figured in reality they had to be… mean, the sinial part of me figured flights of fancy were just that."
The knight looked to the ceiling. He stroked his short beard with two fingers. "Do you mean 'cynical'?"
"Yes!" she exclaimed. She would've gone a little red in embarrassment were it not for her already being red in the face thanks to the work out. "That's the word, cynical."
His eyes fell back down to her. "Are you getting at… are you saying I'm like a charming prince?" Safe to say, he smiled like a fool.
Another spoonful. "No." She looked passed him innocently and missed the dejected, beaten puppy look he gave. "I was going to say you're not what I was expecting from a lord. Not mean, not stern, but kind, a little funny," she giggled, thinking about their awkward exchange a moment ago, "It's truly wonderful to know I'll have someone like you around to get along with. I don't mean harm but… Prince Weiss is… intense."
"Prince Weiss?" he jeered, brows raising.
"Yes?" His reaction surprised her. She thought that perhaps 'intense' did not mean what she thought it meant. Ruby grew annoyed with herself.
"Yes he… he uh, ha, he is intense." Jaune bobbed his head, itched his neck, and choked down the urge to laugh. Or the urge to run and find Weiss, tell her that she was apparently a man, then explain to Weiss that she would have to find a beautiful princess to wed and have many, many children. Then he had to suppress the image in his mind of Ruby and Weiss attempting to have children. Such thoughts were impure and improper, and he knew he should be ashamed of himself for having lewd thoughts of his lord, but it didn't stop him from having them.
"Yes my lady, I do believe the next few weeks will also be fairly intense still." The knight crouched back down to see eye to eye with the eating girl.
"Why the next few weeks? Is something happening during then? After then?"
"Well of course. Training almost every day if I'm correct, then come the next full moon, you're privy to go on a hunt with… Prince Weiss."
Ruby ate away at her stew, contemplating the connotations of Jaune's words. She had to know and learn everything she could, as her new line of work was dangerous enough that any detail might help her in the long run. Not understanding the exact details of crop rotation and chaff removal might result in a handful of bad crops or a bad row, but getting surprised by the abilities of a werewolf for example could result in her not knowing what to do. And with the common sense bestowed upon her, not knowing what to do in the presence of a large, bloodthirsty creature sounds like a quick way to die. Painfully.
"Why the full moon?"
He shuffled in place. "What do you mean?"
"Why is the moon relevant?"
"Because that is often when a beast is overcome with their feral instincts to hunt."
"That's what I figured… which is why… how am I supposed to help the Prince when I am liable to be effected the same?"
Jaune paused. He chewed his tongue and cheek. Finally, "Well my lady, we will see exactly how you react. The curse always affects a person in the same mannerisms every time, but each person is affected differently."
"I don't follow."
He looked down at his hand for a moment, then pointed at his fingernails. "Every werewolf I know of has their nails affected somehow by the transformation of the moon, but while some get hooked nails, others get longer claws, while others still get stone-like hardness. Some learn to control their curse and transform at will, others are slave to it and transform for a few days or remain in a wolflike form. Some become like large wolves while others resemble large abominations of fur and teeth. You were almost completely human, but alas, we only saw you the night after the peak of the full moon. Do you remember any… growing pains?"
She lifted a spoonful to her mouth. "Growing pains?"
"Some men have screamed as their body rapidly grew fur and bones broke and shifted, some have transformed over the course of days painlessly. The werewolves that can control their powers as though they're some sort of druid or the like can go between in a puff of smoke, just like that. Truly magical."
Lost in his explanation, he missed the growing look of fear on Ruby's face. "Breaking- broken- shifting bones… I do believe I am… I feel faint."
"You should be fine."
"Should—" Breaking into a cold sweat, Ruby fell over as she briefly passed out.
-End Chapter 5-