At least I remember the plan I had in mind for this chapter – I never remembered my original plan for Arc Royale yesterday. Annoying me even now. I blame all the planning I've done for the new story on my profile.

I shouldn't need to give this warning at all but since I got no less than three messages about it, I shall. No, there is no and will be no rape in this story. Qrow mentioned it as something that even the bandit tribe wouldn't do. He was decrying it. That was not foreshadowing or anything related to that on my part. Geez.

I really feel like I shouldn't have to clarify that. What weird ass fanfictions are you guys reading where that is the norm…?

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 13

Jaune trudged into camp with an elk tugged on a wooden sleigh behind him and a brace of hares hanging from his left arm. His bow was slung over one shoulder with the string against his chest and Crocea Mors was strapped to his back, not convenient for drawing from that position, but it would be a dire situation indeed if he had to hunt rabbit with a sword. His arrival was noted by the sentries of the Branwen Tribe, who whistled appreciatively as he went by.

"You find a meat market out there or something, boy?"

"Or something." Jaune returned. The sentries never hassled him or anyone else. Their job was important to the safety of the tribe, and so they were afforded payment in terms of fine meat and beer, along with first pick of loot on raids – not that any of those were happening in the middle of winter. Either way, it kept the sentries in a good mood, loyal and from causing trouble that might cost them their prestigious role. The same couldn't be said for the rest of the tribe. "Know anyone useful I can trade with?"

"Mama Sildin over on the west side is looking for good fur and leather for her son – he's coming of age in the summer, and it'll be his first raid. She wants to make sure he goes out with armour that'll keep him alive."

"What can she offer?"

"Sewing, cloth, leather and your body if you get gored by something out there," the other sentry replied. "She does good work with leather and fur, so if you want some new clothing or armour, she's a good bet. Her daughter works bone into charms, ornaments and the like."

"If you're looking to offload the elk then head toward the centre," the other sentry, a middle-aged woman with brown hair tied behind her neck, said. "They always pay more for the good cuts. Hell, you keep bringing stuff like this home, maybe I'll offer you something. You're livin' on the outskirts, right?"

"Currently, yeah."

"Why's that?" one of the men asked, leaning on an axe handle, the head planted in the snow. "You don't look weak, and you hunt like a nature spirit. Unless that swords for show, you should have the balls to fight your way closer."

Jaune shrugged. The truth was that he didn't like the idea of fighting other people for something so banal as a better camping spot. He knew it wasn't to the death, but even wounds could turn bad, and pain was enough of a demotivator. Admitting that would only tarnish his standing in the tribe, however.

"Being on the outskirts makes hunting easier. I really can't be arsed to drag this through the camp."

"Past a hundred watering mouths too, I bet!" The man howled with laughter. "Yeah, that makes sense. Easier to cut it up and take it in pieces, yeah? Fair enough, lad. Fair enough. Hear that, Rosa? He's not interested."

"That's a shame," the woman said, "I was going to offer him space in my tent."

"As your personal hunter or your boytoy?"

The woman smiled coyly. "One of those two. I'll let the boy fantasise which."

"You just wan him for his meat."

"Ah, but which meat?"

Jaune couldn't hide his laugh or his blush. He wanted to hate the tribe, he really did, but they were for the most part friendly. Then again, they were camped here all winter. He had a feeling they'd turn a lot more horrifying during the raiding seasons. All the more reason to not be a part of them after that. Can't let my guard down too much, he thought. They're bandits. They look nice and friendly now, but come spring they'll be robbing innocent people for all they're worth.

To their credit, if that counted at all, the tribe never acted like they were anything else. They didn't make excuses of stealing from the rich and giving to the poor; they showed off their loot, bandied their wealth and had a strict hierarchy of looting that rewarded feats of heroism, bravery but also valuable non-combative acts like healing, guarding the camp or bringing important intelligence to Raven of juicy targets or church patrols. The tribe wasn't as wild and disorganised as it looked. They were barbaric, sure, and they valued strength over much else, but they were strict and organised about it.

Dragging the carcass back towards his tent, Jaune was intimately aware of the hungry looks sent his way. Someone had tried to attack him on return from his first hunting trip, and he'd been so caught off-guard by it that the assailant dragged him to the floor. He'd soon fought back, only to have the attacker hauled off him and beaten up by several of the weaker members of the tribe, who promptly turned around and hungrily asked him to share his hunt with them. He'd done so unthinkingly, more out of pity than a sense of fair trade, and that small introduction to the tribe's politics had laid everything else out in fashion.

"Jaune!" one of his friends waved his way. The girl was scraggly and thin and wasn't old enough to have made a name for herself in the tribe. She was also vicious, as were most of the lower ranking members. Vicious, ambitious and quick to stick to the strong. Or, in his case, the useful. Jaune held no misunderstandings about his worth to them. They protected him fiercely because he was a source of good, fresh food.

"Anna." He slung the brace of hares toward her, which she caught with a wide smile. A few of the others cheered. "No trouble, I hope?"

"Someone tried sneaking in your tent." one of the boys reported. "He didn't so much as get a hand in before she dragged him about by his feet. We roughed 'im up and sent him on his way."

"Probably lookin' for that sword of yours." Anna said.

"Qrow warned me about that." As always, the man's name brought awed whispers from the youngsters, who considered the fact that Qrow Branwen had spoken with Jaune at all to be something akin to legend. "What's the big deal? It's important to me for sentimental reasons, but the tribe has no shortage of weapons."

"Status," a boy said. "Spears for the weak, axes and maces for the rank and file, swords for the strong and successful. Bows for everyone," he added as an afterthought. "A man's got to be able to hunt. You've got a sword, but you live with us. Some don't like that. Think you don't have a right to it."

"It's my sword." Jaune seethed. They made gestures of surrender and he let out a sigh. "How do I convince people to leave the matter be?"

"Show you know how to use it." Anna said. "Would be easy outside winter – just raid well. Here, you'd have to get into a fight with someone. And win," she added as if that should be obvious. It was. "Wouldn't be an issue if you lived-" A boy kicked her sharply. "Y-Yeah, just win a fight. Easy as."

It wouldn't be an issue if he lived in the central part of the camp, she hadn't had a chance to say. Of course they wouldn't want him to move and lose them easy access to good food. Luckily for them, he didn't plan to.

"Cook up some rabbit," he said, "Leave a portion for me."

"What about the deer?"

"Elk." Anna said.

"Whatever." The boy rolled his eyes. "You trading it?"

"Yes." Jaune watched the disappointment show in their eyes, but they knew better than to complain. They had a good thing going and wouldn't risk that for a cut of premium meat. "I'll see if I can't find you some fowl tonight," he offered by way of apology.

Stooping down, Jaune picked up the elk and manoeuvred it over his shoulders. The sleigh made things easier on the snow, but the camp was melted out and people would only try and steal from him if he wasn't holding it in hand. Grunting, he adjusted its weight as best he could and began the short trek toward the centre of the camp, to where Raven's tent stood high on its platform. The tents there were larger, often round, with more room and their own campfires to cook on. There was a strict divide between the communal tenting and those, with a ring of rocks laid in a circle to separate the area. Few dared cross it without strict permission or preparedness to fight.

Jaune crossed it with an elk carcass. No one argued with that.

In fact, a few of the bandits stood up or left their tents, sensing an opportunity for trade. It was funny to think how much the Branwen Tribe respected that. Strength, raiding and trade – the three went hand in hand. Jaune trudged to an open spot and swung the carcass down, panting as he stood up and regarded the eight or so men and women now facing him. They wore the best armour – probably chainmail in raids, but not in winter. Fur and leather were more apparent, but there were metal trinkets and ornaments stamped across them. In the outer levels, bone was the most common ornamentation. Animal bone, thankfully.

"You bring that down yourself, boy?" a large man with broad shoulders and a sword at his waist asked. He had a thick, bushy beard and sharp eyes. "I don't recognise you. New blood?"

"He's the one Taiyang brought in with him," another said. "The hunter's boy."

"Ah." A rumble of recognition spread, more for Taiyang than for him. "Well, well, he does his father proud, I'd say." He nodded to the carcass. "Is that an offering for Raven or are you here to trade?"

If it were the former, they wouldn't impede him. Offerings to the boss were sacred.

Jaune hadn't had any dealings with her since their arrival. "I'm here to trade."

"That's what we like to hear!" the man boomed. "What are you after? Beer? Ale?"

"I've a bronze torque I picked up from a village," a woman threw in. "You can have it for the breast – left and right."

A few more offers came, some fair, others frugal, and each wanted a different part of the animal. The meat was valued highest, but the antlers held medicinal properties, or so the tribe believed. The bones weren't as valuable but could be traded to those on the outskirts. Those here wouldn't sully themselves with such, so his offers there were mostly for soup stock and stew.

"Actually!" Jaune interrupted. "I have something I specifically want and that you might all be willing to offer for a cut." They stopped to listen. He was the one with the elk after all. "I want training. Sword training."

One of the men, tall and older with brown hair and a light beard, crossed his arms. "How much training? It'd take months to make a man out of a beginner."

"How much would the full elk buy me? I can always hunt more."

A few of the tribesmen and women backed away, either uninterested or unwilling to train someone up. Trinkets and belongings were cheap when you earned them raiding, but time and effort on someone they didn't know the worth of was a tall ask. For some, anyway. There were still a few who stayed to barter.

"I don't mind beating a whelp around in the name of training," the first man said. "I'll give you two days for the lot." Two days? It wasn't much but the man looked good. Was good, to earn his position in the central camps. "What say it, boy?"

"I-"

"I'll offer a week per carcass," the brown-haired man said.

"A week?" The first sighed and backed off. "I ain't competing with that. You can have it, Roland."

The rest agreed and meandered off, some with longing looks at the meat before returning to their tents. Soon, it was just Jaune and the man with the crossed arms, who was looking him up and down as if judging his worth. "Bring it to my tent," he said eventually. "We will talk there."

Jaune stooped, lifted, and carried again, thankfully a short distance to a medium-sized animal skin tent shaped in a circle. There was a set of hardened leather armour and chainmail pooled just inside the flap, along with two swords and an axe and a shield. There were also bloody bandages. Quite a few of them. The man, Roland, grunted unhappily as he sat on a stool, his motions stiff and awkward.

"Are you okay?" Jaune asked.

"Hurt my leg in the last raid of autumn," he said. "Farmer stuck a pitchfork in the back." He leaned back and sighed. "Best time for it to be honest – no more raids of the year, and it'll be healed by spring. Not much to do but sit around waiting anyway. Means I can't hunt, but also means I have plenty of spare time. You want to learn to fight. I can teach you. I'm one of the best in the tribe – I taught Raven and Qrow, and I teach her daughter now. All I need to know is if you're going to put in your all."

"Of course." Like Roland, he was trapped here all winter anyway, and he wanted to know how to use his father's sword. Preferably without having to rely on Ozma taking over to do it. "I assume I'm not going to be fighting you in this condition."

"No. I'll call in a favour to stand as your opponent once you're ready for that. You have a week with me. Bring another elk, boar or deer and I'll give you a second. I won't accept anything less." He pinched his lips. "We don't eat rabbit here."

"That's fine. When do we start?"

Roland grinned.

/-/

Jaune struck the mud and splattered down into it, spraying droplets up his face and shoulders to the jeering and mockery of the assembled tribespeople. His left shoulder burned painfully, and he wanted to lay there, but he forced himself to sit up and reach for his flat, wooden shield. Across from him, his opponent twirled her wooden axe in one hand and flexed her shield arm. Her wild mane of golden yellow hair was tied behind her in a ponytail, the rest fanning out like a wild plant past that point. She was grinning ferally. Ruby's sister, Jaune had decided, was a colossal bitch.

"A shield is as much a weapon as any sword," Roland called from the edge of the ring. He was stood arms crossed as always, ignoring the crowd who had gathered for sport, gambling and entertainment. His misery was their fun. "You take your eyes off it, you best be prepared to take it to the face. Same if they do it to you."

I knew that, Jaune thought unhappily. He knew it because it was common sense, but when Yang was flailing and swinging her wooden axe around and threatening to smash his face in, it was hard not to focus on it. The brief second he hadn't earned him her entire body weight delivered through her shoulder into her braced shield, throwing him to the ground. At least she'd refrained from striking him when he was down, though only because it wasn't necessary.

Standing, Jaune spat a little blood and flexed his sword arm. He had a wooden sword of course, as she had a wooden axe, but he could personally attest to how much both hurt. Dad always said shields were useless because Grimm would tear through them. Then again, the tribe doesn't look for Grimm to fight.

"Spread your legs." Roland barked. "The whole reason you were sent on your ass was because your footwork was shit. Spread – better. Keep that. The faster you get used to moving like that, the less bruises you'll have. Yang," he said, "This is training, not an honour duel. I told you to hold back."

"I am holding back," she jibed. "Not my fault he's weak."

"I trained you, girl. I can recognise when you're slacking off and when you're not. Stop it. This is for his benefit. Temper yourself or get out the pit." His harsh words had her burning red in the cheeks. She turned a glare on Roland, but he ignored it. "Whatever issues you have are your own, girl. Not his. Do as I say or I'll withhold training."

"Fine…"

"What was that?"

"Yes, Roland!" she shouted, burning with angry embarrassment. Just his luck that she turned that on Jaune, snarling at him. "I'll go easy on the weakling. Happy now? Fuck! I didn't realise I was fighting a baby."

Jaune scowled but said nothing. He didn't know what her problem was, but she'd enjoyed kicking his ass from the moment this started. He'd been willing to write it off as the tribe being assholes before, but Roland had noticed it too, all but confirming this was personal.

"Start again. Jaune, keep your wits about you this time. Everything is a weapon. Begin!"

Yang swung in again, but this time he could tell she was holding herself back. Not any slower, but less powerful. Jaune caught the axe on the flat of his shield and didn't feel the rattle down his bones as he had before. He fought the instinctive urge to back away – Roland had cussed him out for that – and instead pushed into his opponent, going on the attack and swinging his shield aside to force the axe away. The moment his vision was clear of wood, he stabbed with his sword, but by that point Yang had ample time to bring her own, big round shield in the way. His wooden blade clattered and slid off it.

"Conserve your strength." Roland shouted as they fought. "Every time you hit a shield or a parry, you're bleeding off energy. A sword is sharp for a reason – you don't need to swing it like you're hewing down a tree. Flick it lightly, let the weight do the work, it'll cut through cloth and flesh just as easily. The blade is heavy and adds its own force to the swing. Make soft blows, expend nothing, and only put your back into it when you're sure it'll connect."

Jaune clashed his shield against Yang's, flat to flat, and soon they were both straining against one another. Jaune tried to work his sword around, over and under her shield, to which she adjusted it to block. Her axe wasn't so good for that, but she could hook the curve over the top of his and try to pull it down, which she did. At the last second, he stepped left and surrendered his shield right, grinning as the girl pitched through and forward, off balance now that he wasn't bracing against her. She toppled, shield hitting the mud to stop her fall. In hindsight, it was a bad idea, but after all the mockery he couldn't help rapping the flat of his sword against her ass.

The crowd went wild with laughter.

"Better." Roland said, striding between them so that Yang couldn't leap up and tear Jaune's throat out. "Though you know she was holding back. Yang, calm your tits. This isn't the first time you've eaten mud and it won't be the last. You agreed to help."

"I agreed to fight him!" Yang spat. "Not to let him win!"

"Calm, girl!" Roland roared. Yang stepped back. "You know damn well I held back and let you win in training. This is no different. Whatever issues you have with your father and sister are not his." He gave her a shove toward a barrel of water. "Cool your head before I dunk it for you."

"I'd win in a proper fight!" she argued.

"Everyone knows that – but you've been at this for years and he hasn't. Water." He pointed. "Now." Swearing, the girl stomped over to wash her face, then left the arena without coming back. Jaune watched her go until Roland snapped his fingers to get his attention. "Ignore her. How do you feel?"

"Sore."

"Good sore or bad?"

"A little bit of both." The kind of sore he felt after a session with his father. "Thanks for this, Roland, I feel like it helped. We didn't train to fight against people before, so I don't know what I'm doing."

"I could tell. You fought her like you would a wild animal." He didn't sound too angry by it. "It's a habit to get over, but better to bleed in training than on the battlefield. That's it for today. Anymore and you'll as like pull a muscle. Come back tomorrow same time. We'll continue then. Until then, work on your upper arm strength." He pinched Jaune's bicep. "There's muscle here, but it's lean – a hunter's body. You want to fight; you need to be strong. Chop wood. It's not glamorous, but hours of swinging an axe will teach you the truth of real sword fighting. Constant swinging. Whatever nonsense you've heard in legends and stories is bullshit. A real swordsman knows it's hard, sweaty work on the battlefield. You're better off being able to swing a thousand times than make one perfect cut. I should know," he grumbled, "It's when exhaustion hits that even an old fart with a pitchfork can take you down."

Jaune could well believe it. After only an hour, he felt exhausted. If the church came after him, they'd have enough people to push him that hard. Even more. Right now, he felt like a child could have knocked him on his back. "I'll get stronger," he promised.

"Good. Show me your worth in the raiding season."

Roland didn't notice Jaune's smile fade because he'd already turned to hobble away. Raiding season. It was a stark reminder of what these people really were, and why Jaune couldn't stay with them after winter. Learning from them was all well and good, as was sharing their warmth and security against the snow and Grimm, but he wasn't going to stand shoulder to shoulder with these people and attack innocent farmers. He just couldn't. Shaking his head, he trudged around the pit and over the low fence, where he was faced by a familiar figure running in to hug him.

"Jaune!"

"Ruby?" He was grateful for the fence because her assault knocked him back into it and would have knocked him down without it. He braced himself and then stood back up. "Hey. I guess you were watching the fight."

"I'm so sorry!" she wailed. "That was all my fault."

"Huh? What is?"

"Yang," she groaned. "The reason she's being so hard on you." Ruby pushed off him and kicked nervously at the grass. "I may have upset her. Dad says she was trying to show off to get me to like her, but I said something mean."

There was trouble in the reunited family? He hadn't heard, but then he also hadn't had much to do with Taiyang since they arrived here. Ruby made sure to come and talk to him every day, usually to the shock of those nearby, but he had been otherwise left on his own. Ruby had confided in him before that Taiyang thought it a punishment towards her father, that Raven had forbidden him from helping Jaune as part of a condition to let him back in the tribe.

"What did you say that got her so angry at me?"

"Um." Ruby cringed. "I may have said you were stronger than her."

Yep, that would do it. "Oh for…"

"She called you a weakling!" Ruby growled angrily, and a little cutely. He might have been more amused if he wasn't sporting the results of her boast as bruises. "I got angry and said no matter how tough she thinks she is, she isn't as strong as you because you killed two Grimm at once with nothing more than a spear and a hunting knife."

"Why did you tell her about that?"

"I was angry! I wasn't thinking!" Ruby wilted. "I just… I don't like it here," she confided quietly. "Dad is – or was – a bandit, and even if he retired before I was born, finding out now is… it's weird. I don't like it."

That much, Jaune understood. He'd found out his own was a mercenary, but that felt a lot easier to swallow. He hadn't technically broken the law or gone after innocent people, whereas Taiyang obviously had. It spoke well of him to give all that up to be with Ruby's mom, but now they had to come back and experience it all again.

"And worse," she went on, "now I find out I have a sister and that dad was with another woman before mom. A-And Yang is fine," she said, "She's nice enough and she beat up a guy who insulted me, but she keeps showing off and trying to do things, and it's always fighting, fighting, fighting. She boasted the other day of how many raids she's been on. Raids!" she said loudly. "Why would I be happy to hear about that!?"

"It's their culture." Jaune said, even if he didn't like it any more than her. To Ruby, it must have made no sense, but he'd grown up with siblings and recognised what Yang was doing. "I think she's trying to get you to like her."

"What?"

"Yang wants you to like and be proud of her as your big sister, so she's showing off in the only way she knows how to impress you." He'd seen it all too many times, though thankfully none of his sisters went out beating people up to do it. "I've done the same with my youngest sister a few times, usually trying to shoot targets I've no right hitting to impress her." He usually failed, embarrassing himself and disappointing Amber. "Since the tribe respects and celebrates strength and raiding, she thinks that'll get you to open up and love her. How is she around Taiyang?"

"Awkward. Doesn't know what to say. Laughs at his jokes, then clams up and doesn't say a word. Lots of weird silences."

Yang was struggling to connect with her father, then. He couldn't blame her. Finding out your father didn't know you existed must have been a shock. You couldn't hate someone for walking out on you when they didn't know but welcoming them back into your life with open arms later wouldn't be easy. "I think she sees getting on your good side as a way to make things work with Taiyang," he said. "That's my thought anyway. And now you've gone and made it sound like the only way to win your admiration is to beat me." He groaned. "Thanks for that one."

"I didn't know! M-Maybe I can try and fix this. Talk with her."

"That'd be appreciated." Very appreciated. Another thing occurred to him. "You know, the tribe is going to start raiding again in the spring." He watched her face pale and then fall. "I'm not going to stay for that."

"W-What?"

"If you don't raid, you're not a part of the tribe. That's what I've been getting from the people here. They're bandits, Ruby, plain and simple. Since there's no way I can raise arms against innocent people, I'm not going to stay."

"Where will you go?"

"I don't know." He threw a question back at her. "Can you handle raiding with them?"

"I… No." Ruby shrank back and brought her hand to her mouth to nibble on her knuckles. "I… I couldn't do that. Never. Stealing a horse is one thing, but I didn't hurt anyone. I'm not a killer. M-Maybe in self-defence if my life depended on it…"

"I know what you mean. You can't hunt people down." Ruby nodded quickly in agreement. He'd suspected as much, but he hadn't known if Taiyang might have managed to changer her mind or win her over. "When spring comes, when I'm going to leave…" He hesitated a moment before taking the plunge. "Do you want to come with me?"

"Where will you go?" she asked again.

"I don't know," he replied, the same answer. "But I figure I can think that out over the winter, maybe decide on a direction. I'd be looking for somewhere to settle down. A village or a town, somewhere I can just be me and not… well…" He looked around but said nothing. "You know."

"Yeah. I know. Um…" Ruby looked around herself, likely to make sure Yang or Taiyang weren't listening. "Can I think about it? I don't want to stay here and kill people, but I don't want to leave dad either."

"Maybe you can convince him to come with."

"Yeah!" Her face lit up, the panic fading away. "Would that be okay?"

"Sure. The more the merrier."

"Thank you!" Ruby embraced him tightly and then let go. "I'll try and talk him round. You'll be here a few weeks yet, right?"

"Maybe a month or two," he replied. "At least until the snow is all gone, or when the tribe starts to move. Whichever comes first. I'll give you plenty of warning before I go. I'd like to get in a little more training before I go anyway."

"I'll talk to dad." Ruby promised. "Just don't you dare leave without me, okay? Don't leave me with all these people."

"I won't. I'd rather not spend my time around killers either."

"We're all killers, we humans," a voice whispered in his mind. "It's just a matter of how much it takes to turn us into one."

I'm not, Jaune thought, ignoring the voice as best he could. If needs be, he would be the first of Ozma's hosts never to take a life, nor to plunge the realm into chaos. There was no response from the Dark Lord, no cruel laughter or mockery, only a deep sense of misery not his own, and a lingering feeling of hopelessness.

We'll be time skipping a little next chapter. Only a few weeks, but enough to allow Jaune some time to have gotten better in the ring, and maybe even for Yang to learn how to interact with people as a normal human being. Who can say? Actions speak louder than words or so they say, so maybe Yang is just encapsulating that.

"I am beating up your best friend. Do you love me yet? No? Damn it, I need to beat him harder!"

Next Chapter: 24th April

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