-(=RWBY=)-
Chapter 18
-(=RWBY=)-
Jaune had little he could say after Weiss's declaration; if she wanted to destroy Blake by revealing the truth in the fullness of time, there was not much he could do.
Deciding to leave that problem for another day, he instead worked to sort out some key details with Weiss, on how to best to convince her father at the meeting later.
It was a useful talk, though terse, and cut short before long by Weiss's need to move on to the next appointment in her busy schedule.
Jaune himself had his own responsibilities to see to, and so after bidding farewell to Weiss – and getting courteous but chilly parting words in reply – he began to get to work.
The subsequent afternoon was spent in a blur of planning and organization, with important discussions had and urgent calls placed.
He also had to fit a shopping trip in between everything else, in an experience he did not enjoy, to purchase clothes he thought extravagant.
Regardless, all his efforts culminated later that evening, when he and Blake found themselves in a hotel room, awkward and uncomfortable in formal attire.
"Stop fidgeting."
Blake's admonishment came during his latest – but certainly not last – attempt at shifting his shoulders within his suit to try and make the latter feel more comfortable.
Blake looked hardly more at ease herself, in her black haltertop dress with sheer silk sleeves and a slit running down the skirt.
Taking her advice, Jaune ceased his futile efforts to become comfortable in his own clothes, and instead took a seat on a sofa, right next to the one his former classmate was already occupying.
The hotel room they were in was luxury incarnate, from the bathtub so big it was virtually a pool, to the floor-to-ceiling windows looking out onto the river and the city centre, and to the king-sized bed so soft one could sink into it and forget all troubles and worries.
They were here in this room, as Weiss suggested, and they were wearing formal business attire, as Weiss had all but commanded.
He and Blake needed to make a good impression on Jacques Schnee, and as his own daughter – who knew him better than almost anyone else alive – expressly warned –
Look unprofessional, or unserious, and my father will not give you the respect you deserve. He will judge you amateurs dabbling in matters you do not understand, or worse, children playing at the affairs of adults. He will think nothing you say worth listening to, and nothing you propose worth supporting.
And so here they were – Jaune in a suit bought off the shelf mere hours ago, and Blake in a dress rented out just for this occasion.
There was still some time to go before their meeting, and preferring conversation to awkward silence, Jaune spoke up, to remark,
"This isn't the first time I've been here in this hotel. This hotel – the Sky Garden – was where Councilman Viren was holding a high-society soiree for the sons and daughters of Vale's elite. Ozpin wanted Weiss and I in attendance, to sell them on the idea of a huntsman career."
Blake listened in silence, not saying a word until the end, when she quietly added,
"And then the White Fang attacked."
Jaune found his mouth twisting.
"Yes. They kidnapped Weiss, took her away. And what they intended to do... well..."
Jaune trailed off, but then Blake spoke. Her face expressionless, and her voice without inflection, she stated,
"It would be a fate far worse than death for Weiss. Torture, mutilation and then execution."
Blake was blunt, her words detailing the horrors that Weiss would have been subject to, had he failed that day.
It was sobering.
"Yes. But thank the gods I managed to track Weiss down and kill all her captors, before they could do anything to her."
Jaune could remember the crushing relief he felt when he had finally located the warehouse Weiss was being held in. He could also recall the brutal combat that followed – and the sheer horror that twisted his guts, when Neo's semblance made him think that Weiss had died.
He had managed to figure out the truth and kill the illusionist, but the memory of that false reality haunted him still. Weiss with her stomach slit, the crimson blood streaming down her white dress; Jaune stumbling forward, his hands reaching futilely out, unable to heal, unable to help.
It was an unpleasant memory to dredge up, and Jaune was more than happy to turn his attention to Blake, when she spoke up once more to say,
"Weiss must have grateful to you for saving her. You two got along much better after that."
Jaune gave a non-committal shake of the head.
"Yes and no. It's more that the rescue gave the both of us the chance to finally apologize, for some of terrible things we said to each other previously."
"I see. Regardless, you two began spending so much time together, it was almost unsettling – going from sworn enemies to fast friends like that... it raised a few eyebrows."
Jaune laughed, softly. It was true that he and Weiss had increasingly chosen each other's company, in the time after the kidnapping, and in Rothenburg itself.
It was a simpler, happy time.
The smile must have lingered on his face too long, however, for Blake's golden eyes turned appraising.
"You like her, don't you?"
Jaune raised an eyebrow.
"Of course I do, she's my friend –"
The corner of Blake's lips twitched up, in an almost-smile.
"No, Jaune. I'm your friend. She's something more than that."
Jaune hid a grimace.
I... hope so? Think so? Don't know?
He didn't dare presume – and there was plenty of time to see where they would take things, once his mission was done, and once they could actually spend time together.
In the end, Jaune could only say, equivocally,
"Maybe."
Blake nodded, as if that was as good as an admission – and perhaps it was.
Now looking thoughtful more than anything else, she asked, quietly,
"Why do you like her?"
Jaune shrugged.
"Why not? Weiss is smart, beautiful, assertive – any guy would like her. I'm sure that plenty of suitors are falling over themselves to impress her."
"Jealous, Jaune?"
Blake's tone of voice was even, but Jaune could sense the mischievousness behind her question.
Snorting, he replied,
"Reading Ninjas of Love again, I see."
Where once the reference would have turned Blake red with embarrassment, now she only replied, deadpan,
"I haven't had the time, actually. And your situation is nothing like what happens in the fine literature I read. The male protagonists aren't such awkward virgins, for one."
Unable to help himself, Jaune laughed, though his chuckling turned into a cough towards the end, as embarrassment asserted itself over amusement.
Wincing, he said,
"Touche, Belladonna."
His former teammate appeared less pleased at the success of her quip that he would have thought, however, and her thoughts seemed already to have drifted on to more serious matters.
Pensive once more, she said, softly,
"I suppose, in the end, we don't choose who we love."
The weightiness of her words surprised Jaune, somewhat.
Sensing that there was something deeper there, he asked, carefully, and with some delicacy,
"Bad experience on your end, Blake?"
She grimaced.
"Something like that."
There was history there, and heartbreak – that much was obvious. Not wanting to open old wounds, or distract Blake before the all-important meeting, Jaune kept silent – he wasn't about to push, or to badger Blake into talking about something so clearly discomfiting.
Blake did not speak for the longest time, though everything about her body – from the biting of her lips and the curling of her fingers against the couch – spoke to her agitation.
Taking a deep breath, Blake seemed to come to a decision.
Turning to him, she said, firmly,
"I used to date Adam Taurus."
Jaune winced.
Taurus?
It was a rude surprise, but on more considered reflection, Blake's admission was not the most astonishing thing he could imagine – if she had been in the Fang, she could well have known the man.
There was a lot Jaune wanted to ask Blake – but he resisted the impulse. There was no guarantee that the room was not bugged, and the last thing they needed was someone overhearing Blake inadvertently confessing to terrorism.
Instead, he asked, in a question mirroring that which Blake had earlier posed to him –
"Why did you like him?"
And it was now Blake's turn to shrug, albeit helplessly. Turning his own words from earlier back upon him, she replied,
"Why not? Adam's handsome, and charismatic...he's the tall, dark and brooding sort that silly girls fall in love with all the time."
Blake was as blunt in her assessment to the point of self-deprecation; which, to Jaune's mind, only raised the question –
"So what happened in the end?"
Blake shook her head, more in sorrow than in anger.
"In the end, he cared more about hurting humans than freeing the faunus... and I couldn't take it anymore. And so I left him."
And left the Fang, too – that was the unspoken bit that Jaune could infer well enough.
Of course, now he knew of Blake's history with Taurus, certain pressing concerns presented themselves.
"Does Taurus bear a grudge? Now that you're in the public eye, and running for political office – will he come for you? Sienna Khan might understand the necessity of politics, and refuse to authorize an attack on you... but Taurus may not care at all.
Blake frowned at him.
"You say that as if you know him."
Jaune ignored that – he too had to tread carefully, to avoid revealing any information that could link him to the Fang and to his own involvement with the raid on the airbase.
Instead, he pressed the question.
"Answer me, Blake."
She looked away.
"Yes. No. Maybe."
The prevarication annoyed him, also told him enough. The fact that Blake could not commit to a straight no spoke volumes of what Adam Taurus could well do.
"He might attack, then. Fine – we'll just have to be on our guard."
Blake looked far from reassured, however, and she warned –
"Adam's strong, Jaune; very strong."
Jaune smiled, without humour. Blake's warning was sincerely made, but also superfluous. Jaune had fought Adam, man to man, blade against blade; he knew just how strong his fellow swordsman was –
– and just how far short of Jaune's own strength Taurus nonetheless fell.
Calmly, Jaune asked Blake,
"Is he stronger than Rainart?"
Blake hesitated, seemingly in two minds, caught as she was between the truth, and the desire not to underestimate the fearsome Adam Taurus.
In the end, the truth won out.
"Rainart was stronger. Much stronger."
"And Rainart's dead. You have nothing to worry about Blake – if Taurus attacks, I'll kill him."
If anything, Jaune's words only made Blake appear even more conflicted.
As he watched her face dance between acceptance and apprehension, it was clear Blake still harboured some feelings for Taurus – enough so that the prospect of his death brought her the furthest thing from joy.
Mindful of her feelings, and wanting to be considerate, Jaune added,
"Though perhaps Taurus won't try anything at all. Raiding some isolated mining camp or military installation is one thing; attacking us, here, in the middle of Vale, at the heart of huntsman power – that would foolish beyond belief, and whatever we think of him, Adam Taurus isn't stupid."
Blake did not reply, and Jaune found himself restless enough that he got up to pace.
He strode to the window, to look out.
The city was beautiful, as always – a thousand points of light, so bright the stars themselves were wiped from sight.
For a long while, he drank in the view, and let it soothe him.
Still, feeling the need not to let the Adam Taurus matter just hang there, unresolved, he eventually said,
"I promise I'll keep you safe, Blake. I failed to protect you and Pyrrha at Rothenburg, but this time..."
Perhaps it just hard to read Blake, but Jaune could have sworn she looked pained.
Any doubt he had about his friend's feelings, however, vanished, when she said,
"I'm not going to sit back and do nothing while you protect me, Jaune. If Adam attacks, I'll fight him beside you."
She swallowed, even as she clenched her fists.
"I stood by and did nothing when Rainart killed Pyrrha. Never again."
Jaune frowned.
"There was nothing you could do, Blake."
And that was the honest truth, but Blake only shook her head – she clearly didn't see things that way.
"I could have shot at him with Gambol Shroud – drawn his attention, forced him to fight me rather than finish off Pyrrha."
Her words only deepened his frown, and his reply came quick on the heels of a sceptical raise of his brows.
"That would certainly have worked... for all of one second. And then Rainart have punched you. And then you would have been dead."
Blake fixed him with a look.
"I could have used my clones to misdirect him while Pyrrha got away."
Jaune only shook his head, grimly.
"There was nowhere to go."
And still Blake argued –
"We could have reached you, and then helped you fight him."
Jaune thought about it – thought about it, and then dismissed it.
"No. Most of my fight with Rainart involved running away – using speed and skill to stay one step ahead, and only trading blows when the alternative was certain death. Had I needed to protect both you and a Pyrrha lacking her aura, I would have been forced to stand and fight – and I would have died."
Even as he said that, he was regretting his words, when he saw how Blake's eyes gleamed, then, bitter-bright, and grimly satisfied.
With stinging derision directed more at herself than at him, she asked,
"So you agree that I was deadweight?"
"No!"
Jaune's frustration boiled over, and he snapped at Blake. It was – he now realized – a mistake, to have even been drawn into such a conversation in the first place.
To talk about what Blake could have done, should have done; all this assumed that the events of Rothenburg were somehow within her control, and that she was in some form responsible – and hence, in some way to blame.
And that pernicious idea Jaune wholeheartedly rejected.
Flatly, he said,
"You're not to blame for what happened, Blake. Rainart was too monstrously strong for things to have turned out in any way but this – distractions, clones, teamwork; none of this would have mattered, in the face of a man who could probably punch out a Goliath."
Blake looked away – out of the window, her eyes not meeting his.
Jaune suppressed a sigh.
It was clear that his words had been to no avail.
Blake heard, but did not listen; she took in his argument, but failed to see reason.
Jaune saw it plain, now, where before he could give Blake the benefit of the doubt.
Indubitably – it was survivor's guilt she felt.
Blake was consumed by guilt; riven, by remorse – for surviving herself when Pyrrha did not, and for failing to save their friend, from a death as brutal as it was unjust.
It was irrational – but such was the heart.
Keenly aware that bloodless reason wasn't going to persuade Blake, Jaune decided to give it up. His former teammate needed time to come to terms with the trauma and tragedy, and all he could do was respect that such a process could not be rushed.
Perhaps the best thing he could do now was try and keep Blake's mind off the matter, and so, Jaune said –
"The meeting with Jacques Schnee is starting soon. Are you ready?"
The shift in conversation towards business drew Blake's eyes away from the window and back to him. Twin golden orbs considered him, before she nodded,
"Yes."
Despite her firm answer, Jaune was not so sure. Weiss had warned them that her father was going to give them a difficult time, and with Blake in an uncharacteristically emotional state, Jaune feared that his old teammate was going to be less than controlled – that she would fail to play things perfectly, as they had to.
"Are you certain, Blake? You know what Weiss said – about him intending to test us, and how. It'll be provocative, and we can't afford –"
"Jaune. I know."
Blake was not quite glaring at him, but her annoyance was clear.
Jaune nodded his head, but also said,
"I'll take your word for it. And Blake, remember – if you lash out, and this campaign collapses into failure, it'll be your people that will suffer."
If she hadn't been glaring at him before, she was definitely glaring at him now – but Jaune only stared back, impassive. He would take her displeasure now, than risk her forgetting the stakes, and acting recklessly because of it.
There was no room for error, no margin for mistakes. As Weiss kept emphasizing, credibility was crucial, and if they showed themselves incapable of even controlling their emotions, any claim they had to competence and professionalism would be destroyed in an instant.
Nonetheless, the graceless way that Jaune had phrased the reminder so irked Blake, and that retorted, icily,
"Save the lecture, Arc. I'm faunus, and I know the stakes, better than you."
Convinced, Jaune dipped his head –
– and just in time, for his scroll beeped.
He took it out, checked it, and announced,
"It's Weiss. Shall we begin?"
He projected the screen of his scroll onto the hotel room's large television screen, and then accepted the call.
"Weiss."
The Schnee heiress appeared on screen, a beautiful evening gown flowing off her shoulders.
"Jaune."
She sounded tired, but her greeting was fond.
Any warmth in her voice evaporated, however, when she turned her attention to Blake,
"Belladonna."
Her voice could have frozen Vacuo thrice over, such was the glacial hostility she exuded.
"Schnee."
Blake's own voice was frigid, and just the bit mocking.
All in all, they were off to a good start.
Weiss could not disguise her animosity for the former terrorist, nor did she even want to. On Blake's part, forewarned as she was that Weiss knew her secret, no surprise was evinced.
Weiss's sky-blue eyes bored into Blake's honey-yellow ones, before the former flicked away, as their owner said to Jaune,
"You have ten minutes before my father has to leave for another engagement. Make every second count."
Jaune nodded.
And just as he did so, the screen shifted, to present an older man, white-haired and white suited, with eyes arrogant and cold.
Perhaps it was what Weiss had always told him that primed Jaune to think so, but looking into those two twin cerulean orbs – so like Weiss's, and yet so not – Jaune got the sense of a man who thought himself better than the world; superior, to all other people.
"Mr Schnee."
Jaune greeted the CEO of the Schnee Dust Corporation politely, even as the man's own reply came dismissively.
"Jaune Arc."
Conspicuous in its absence was a greeting for Blake – a slight, and one fully intended.
"Thank you for meeting us. Your time is valuable, as is ours, so I won't waste any.
"My proposal is for the SDC to channel money to a political action committee as run by Weiss, and whose purpose is to aid Blake Belladonna's election campaign for the Valean Assembly."
The man appeared hardly to be listening; instead, with his left elbow on the table and with his face resting at an angle on his fist, Jacques Schnee looked almost bored.
It was another slight – though whether this was deliberate or unintended Jaune could not say. As Weiss's frequent complaints made crystal clear, Jacques Schnee was utterly inconsiderate of others – the logical end result of a world where extreme wealth bought unearned deference and an immunity to consequence.
Ignoring all this rudeness, Jaune pushed ahead, to make his case.
"I believe such financial support by the SDC for the Belladonna campaign is mutually beneficial. It'll help Blake get elected, but it'll also go some way to improving the SDC's image and popularity – since such support for the faunus rights movement makes it easier to believe the SDC when it claims that it cares for welfare of faunus, and that it seriously investigates allegations of abusive labour practices in the dust camps."
This was a naked appeal to self-interest, and righty so so, for Jacques Schnee cared only for his own aggrandisement, and nothing for the general welfare, or for justice and freedom.
Nonetheless, even with the argument tailored specifically to persuade its general intended audience, Jacques Schnee looked both unenthusiastic and unimpressed.
Lifting his face from his palm, he gestured with his now-free hand.
"Hmph. A fine plan, boy, and a profitable investment for me... if you succeed. But I doubt you can. You are a boy so green, your mother's milk is fresh on your lips – you don't have the influence, or the knowledge, or the resolve to see this through."
Jacques Schnee started off condescending, but ended in a manner positively disparaging.
Tamping down on his annoyance, Jaune made himself respond with cool composure.
"I understand your concern. So let me assuage it by –"
The man's lips curled.
"Talk is cheap. If you want me to trust in your ability to succeed, you can start by showing that you actually exercise control over the faunus you're helping – that they work under you, and not you under them. Send the girl away, and then we can talk business."
Jaune glanced at Blake, whose face was blank but whose eyes were seething.
She was angry, and Jaune could not blame her; Jacques Schnee was being unspeakably rude, and evincing a disrespect that was it hard to swallow.
Nevertheless, Jaune bit his tongue, and moved to say,
"Blake. Please give the two of us some privacy, would you?"
His former teammate nodded, stiffly, before standing.
"Very well. See you later, Jaune. Good evening, Mr Schnee."
Blake managed – remarkably – to conceal any contempt she felt for the CEO of the SDC. With her parting words delivered in a monotone, she then stalked for the exit, thereby leaving Jaune alone with Jacques Schnee.
The man himself gave a mirthless smile.
"Good. I see the Faunus Justice Party listens to you, at least. But influence over that rabble and the ability to lead them is pointless, unless you know politics, and what makes an electoral campaign effective."
"I assure you, Mr Schnee, I know politics all too well."
"Oh, indeed?"
Jacques Schnee all but sneered. The raised eyebrow, the scrunching of the nose, the curl of the lips – everything in his body language screamed contempt, and disbelief.
"A seventeen year old boy knows politics? Forgive me if I don't take your word for it."
Despite the constant mockery from the older man, Jaune never gave in to the temptation to respond snarkily himself. Instead, he kept his emotions in check, all the while saying,
"You're welcome to ask me on anything and everything about politics, Mr Schnee."
"Oh, I will."
For all of Jaune's skill with the sword, and for all the power his newfound semblance supplied, his infiltration mission had lately required not his strength but his knowledge – his understanding, of politics and power and what forces governed the world.
Perhaps Ozpin really was right – when he warned me, that first night we met, that it was not warriors he wanted, but thinkers he needed.
Jacques Schnee was casting a critical eye on Jaune, and rubbing at his chin, before seeming to make up his mind, and saying,
"That shambolic pack of incompetents known as the Council of Mistral have failed to stop Raven Branwen for two decades, and now they're considering devolving even more power to the provinces – a bribe to them, so they don't join Branwen's burgeoning bandit kingdom. I have been asked to be part of an committee advising the Mistralian Council, on this matter of federalization. So tell me, if you are as knowledgeable as you claim – what is my interest in all this?"
Jaune resisted the urge to snort.
Jacques Schnee truly was too transparent.
"Well, Mr Schnee, I could tell you all about how federalism leads to less political oppression, since regional minorities like the Mistralian faunus tribes now get to govern themselves, rather than live under a hostile central government wary of separatism and interested in suppressing their political freedoms. Or I could tell you all about how federalism leads to less armed conflict, since these same minorities no longer feel the need to violently rise up to defend their rights and freedom. But –"
Jaune smiled, humourlessly.
"– I think you and I both know you aren't interested in this kind of stuff. What you're interested in are dust deposits, which the Mistralian provinces are rich in. If the Mistralian Council goes ahead with this federalization scheme, the SDC can swoop in and negotiate some sweetheart mining deals, with these inexperienced provincial governments desperate for cash and tax revenues. And –"
Jacques Schnee interrupted him at that point, to brusquely say,
"And what good will those mining concessions be, when Raven Branwen conquers the region?"
Jaune raised an eyebrow, displaying his scepticism with confidence.
"And why would that be a problem? Raven Branwen's kingdom is built on one simple rule – you obey her, and she protects you. So long as you ask her permission, and lavish her in taxes and tributes, she won't have any objection to the SDC mining the dust from her lands. It's a great deal for you – especially since I doubt murderous bandits care very much about fancy notions like labour laws or environmental protections."
Jacques Schnee had been leaning forward in his chair, but now he sat back. Jaune would not go so far as to say he was satisfied, but he seemed less contemptuous than before. And indeed, he said,
"So you're not a total fool. Good. Perhaps this conversation is not such a waste of my time after all."
The man drummed his fingers upon his desk, before continuing.
"You have some influence with the faunus, and also enough wits to guide them to something better than abject failure. But do you have the ruthlessness needed to win, boy? The world is a harsh, unforgiving place, and to seize victory you have to do whatever's necessary – even if it means hurting people in the bargain."
It was with a lecturing tone that Jacques Schnee delivered his words – as if it was wisdom he was imparting, and invaluable advice he was giving.
Jaune would have smiled contemptuously, had he the latitude to show any disdain, or display any derision.
But because he still needed to avoid antagonizing the richest man in the world, Jaune only let himself say, mildly,
"I'm probably the last person on Remnant who needs any lesson in ruthlessness."
Jacques Schnee didn't quite sneer, but the curl in his lips made his thoughts clear; and what his body implied his words soon stated outright –
"Why? Because you killed some criminals here and there? Hurting those who deserve it is very different from harming those who don't. Only real leaders such as myself – men of courage and nerve – can do the latter, and bring about what's best for the world.
This time Jaune couldn't help himself; contempt curled the corner of his lips, and it was only with great effort that he managed to smother the sneer.
Jaune was not opposed to a clear-eyed, hard-hearted approach to doing good and helping others, but Jacques Schnee was being preposterously self-serving here. In the first instance, it was never the good of the world he sought so much as his own narrow self-interest. And in the second, it was truly laughable, to paint a choice to sacrifices others as somehow selflessly noble.
Jaune, who had more than a passing familiarity with such painful sacrifices, could not but feel the deepest of distaste and the most searing of scorn, for a man such as Jacques Schnee – a man who claimed unearned valour and who pretended to be better than he was.
It made Jaune's blood boil, and with that anger came the realization that he needed to bring this discussion to a close – before he could truly lose his patience, and say something that would offend Jacques Schnee and send him storming from the room.
The challenge was persuading the man that Jaune did not lack for ruthlessness – and in that area, Jaune's options were limited.
There was Domremy, of course, and the dark secret that made Jaune everything he was today – but Jaune was never going to reveal such intimate truths to others, let alone to a man as detestable as Jacques Schnee.
And that left Jaune no choice, but to reach for another solution – one whose execution demanded a grave betrayal of confidence.
"Did you know –"
Jaune spoke loudly, and clear.
" – that Blake Belladonna used to be in a romantic relationship with Adam Taurus, before he turned to terrorism?"
Jacques Schnee seemed ready to interrupt, and protest the seeming non-sequitur – but Jaune brought a hand up, and silenced the man before he could make a fuss.
"She broke up with him, of course, as it became apparent that he was a violent sociopath – and now he holds a grudge. With Blake's entry into politics, and the public if implicit rejection of the White Fang's violent methods, Taurus seems moderately likely to mount an attack on Blake – to punish her, and to make an example to warn off other faunus from peaceful engagement."
Jaune paused, before taking a breath. Once he said the following, there was no going back.
"So here's my offer to you, Mr Schnee. I will not inform the police or Huntsman Command of this potential attack; instead, if Taurus makes a move, I will let it go ahead, and seek to stop it myself.
Jaune gestured with his hand.
"I will protect Blake, of course, and kill the Fang, but even a failed attempt will generate impossible outrage, and weaken the terrorists as they try and fail to persuade more moderate people over to their side. And with all that said and done – isn't all this a public relations strategy well worth supporting?"
Jacques Schnee looked at Jaune. The older man appeared surprised – astonished, even. Sounding hesitant for the first time that evening, he replied,
"You are willing to put your teammate at risk, just to show how ruthless you are?"
Jaune nodded, sharply –
– and the moment he did, Jacques Schnee's whole countenance changed.
It was a subtle thing, almost unnoticeable; but it was there, all the same.
Jaune could just about make it out, from the brightness in his eyes, to the smile ghosting across his lips, and to the way his head fractionally dipped.
Admiration – there was no mistaking it.
Jacques Schnee respected him; for his ruthlessness, and his utter lack of conscience and scruples.
And despite himself, Jaune twitched in discomfort.
He had always known that politics was a dirty business, but being admired by Jacques Schnee made him feel filthy.
Still, he could not honestly say he regretted his actions.
He knew the stakes of his mission, knew how many lives they stood to lose.
He knew that all he did was for the greater good – and he understood, that there was almost nothing that could not be justified in its pursuit.
And perhaps it was that which terrified him most of all – the prospect, of what he would eventually be called upon to do.
-(=RWBY=)-