XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Official Supporters:

Emperor King Perby

Shadie

DigiDemonLord

Xager the Chaos King

Greg Gibson

If you want your name on the lists of my stories and videos, head over to P a t. R e . o n and search for the Temple Walkers. Just let us know you're from Fanfiction, alright? There's a thousand of you, so a dollar a piece would really add up and help me a lot! Once I reach five hundred Supporters of any value over a dollar, I will make a concerted effort to put out a chapter of something once every three days at the very slowest.

As of now, The channel and I are struggling financially. So please, if you're able, become a Supporter. We'll be uploading art and concepts soonish on a project of my own making too, and you'll get to be a part of it~! And I'll get dinner as a side benefit~!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"How in the world did you get your ribs rebroken? Again?" "Like you're trying to kill yourself. Gods, these Huntsman, suicidal to the last man and woman." "Your father already told me you'd done it once, didn't think you'd bloody do it again! I guess you must have enjoyed yourself."

He rolled his eyes at the town's doctor, a young man named Phil who stayed in Ansel and moved between the small mining settlement and the Atlesian fortification. The young man was barely over twenty two, with dark brown eyes and hair and tanned skin, with a smiling and youthful face that bore no scars or blemishes, which made him a hit among the women in both places he visited. He wore a simple brown apron made of leather over denim jeans and a flannel shirt, worn throughout and patched in a few spots, hallmarks of living a rougher life on the frontier than one in the city might expect.

"Training?" Jaune tried weakly, the young doctor giving him an unamused look at the obvious lie. "Okay, fine. We got attacked, I'm sure you heard about it from the guardsmen." The doctor simply nodded and let Jaune talk while he wrapped up his chest, "Well, they were good at fighting and everyone is already hurt, mostly."

"Then you shouldn't be fighting anything. You should have run." "Typical cocky Huntsman…" The doctor argued, grimacing and pressing a hand to the blonde's bandaged chest, the young knight grimacing at the man's thoughts and the feeling of his bruised side being touched. "Should heal up right as rain in a week, if you don't break them again. Keep it up though and they'll stay broken." "Aura will make sure of that… The Gods' punishment for the foolish."

"I'll be more careful, Doctor. Promise." Jaune assured him, reaching for his new hoodie lying on the table next to him. It was a simple thing, black like his old one and lacking the design in the center, and he slipped it on carefully and looked around the small room while the doctor cleaned up from tending to him. A single small table dominated the center of the room, a door past in front of it where his feet would rest if he were on his back, and dark wooden furniture with tools surrounded him. After a moment, Jaune had a thought, "You know, my ship is going to be leaving soon and could use a-"

"Not interested, Jaune. At all." "Here we go…" The doctor cut across him sourly, his back to Jaune while he packed up the wrapping bandages and tape he'd used to treat his wounds. "I am not the type to fly around, stitching up idiots who think hitting a giant wolf with a sword is a good plan. And I am frankly not trained well enough in more advanced treatment methods or needs, like surgery on a bullet wound for example, to feel confident in treating you or anyone else. Sorry." "Just once, I'd love these people to not try recruiting me…"

"It, uh, I figured it was worth asking." Jaune shrugged, grimacing when it pulled at his bandages but nodding understandingly regardless. "Sorry if it bothered you, but I had to ask. I have people depending on me, you know?"

"You have more wounded?" He asked, looking over his shoulder. Jaune nodded and the man frowned, irritation rolling off of him. "Well, the hell aren't they here for?" "Bloody Huntsman…" "What are the injuries, then? Cuz I'm assuming you idiots thought that his Aura would heal it right up."

"Hers, actually." The man turned, clicking his case of bandages closed with an angry glint in his eyes, and Jaune chuckled to himself quietly and awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. "The, uh, the injury is a dislocated and pulled leg, at the hip. A friend of mine on the ship lined it up and made sure it wouldn't shift around. She, uh, she's kind of… Done it before, you know... And I only stopped in at my father's insistence, he… Wouldn't discuss business with me until I got seen by a doctor."

"Joy." "Nothing better than a self-taught Huntsman remedy to get yourself crippled." "Well, I'll send your bill to your father as per his instructions, then. At least I'll get a decent pay day out of you." The man turned, holding out a small yellow bottle in his gloved hand. "You will need to take these for the duration of your recovery, they will reduce the swelling and prevent you from being in too much pain." "Even if it would teach you a damn lesson." "Two a day, one in the morning and one at night."

"Do I have to-" Jaune's mouth clamped shut when the man glared at him, pocketing the bottle and stepping towards the door. "O-Okay, then, thank you for the help." He pushed out the door and stepped into the warm sunlight before the other man could more than grunt, sighing lightly and looking around.

He'd gone without either his armor or helmet, something that had bothered Cinder even more when he said he'd be going on his own, because he'd wanted to stay used to feeling everything around him. The echo of emotions and thoughts cascading around him like a heavy rain, slamming into him hard enough to sting and falling around him loudly.

One woman fussing over her blouse while she followed a friend she wanted more from around.

Another man, angry and drunkenly staggering past houses a few streets over near to the tavern, thoughts about a woman running through his head with a mixture of sadness and rage.

A young man working on repairing a rifle, worried about a return trip to the Atlesian fort in a few hours. That one added some guilt to Jaune, knowing what Salem had planned for later to help him. That soldier might very well die because of him…

Jaune shook himself, turning to head towards the Arc Manor with a hard grimace. His family and his friends came before some random soldier in town, he'd decided that a long enough time ago. He couldn't just balk and revert back to being a pawn over one trooper who signed up knowing damn well what might happen.

Of course, he had not way of knowing about Salem, or Jaune's connection to her, or what was coming…

Jaune sighed at the internal conflict, but eventually decided to ignore it. There was nothing he could do, dealing with Ozpin and making Salem back off would save more lives than working for either ever could on their own. It was unfortunate, but no one was worth endangering that. Jaune had already sacrificed enough by now, changed enough, that he wouldn't just give up now. He couldn't, or everyone he'd hurt, everyone he'd killed, just to get where he was would all be for nothing. Every sacrifice and compromise worthless, and he'd be just another villain.

Pushing open the door to his old home, he saw his father stop halfway up the hall and blink, nodding, "Jaune. I was just coming to see you, son. About what we discussed yesterday, I called the Council and-"

"Whatever they agreed to, cancel it." Jaune said simply, sure that no one could hear them thanks to his power. Two sets of hard blue eyes met each other, and Jaune grimaced, "I spoke to Salem, she's going to intervene."

"She's going to…" "Gods, what kind of intervention could the bloody queen bitch of the Grimm pull…" Jaune grimaced and the man noticed several things all at once that finally clicked in his head. Jaune looked tense, and tried to relax and failed when his father noticed, and he'd foregone the helmet and armor, which meant that he felt sufficiently safe in the city. Something Jaune had meant to be taken another way, but which his father attributed elsewhere. And finally, Jaune had spoken to Salem and came to a plan, and felt the need to come and tell his father personally, rather than a simple message that would have served just as well. The large man's shoulders squared and his brow creased, glaring at Jaune, "What did you do?"

"I asked Salem for help." Jaune said simply, the man's glare demanding a better explanation than that. "She saved me from Wi- From the Atlesian who attacked me." He amended that at the last second, to avoid political fallout for Ansel more than anything, "I went to see her after we talked, and asked for her advice."

"And?"

"She said I should make use of my resources and do what needed to be done." He said quietly, eyes softening and smiling bitterly. "That I should come up with a plan or she would, and that I would no doubt wish I'd planned something myself." The larger man grimaced, crossing his arms and leaning against one of the cabinets along the wall, waiting for the plan Jaune and the queen of the Grimm had agreed on, and Jaune sighed. "The… The best idea we could come up with that she would agree to was for her to make a small attack on the Atlesian outpost down the way."

"Shit, son. You plan to deal with Atlas' thinking you are a danger to them, is to attack them?" Jaune grimaced, and the large man swore under his breath. His mouth worked under his beard for a few moments before he sighed, "Vale said they wouldn't step in for anything less than our full mine's rights, and all the criminals turned over. Even the minor ones." "The poor bastards…" "But… No one would die for that."

"Unless the Council decides some of them should. Or some of the people decide to chance running again." Jaune observed bitterly, the man grumbling but not arguing. Kingdoms didn't treat people who ran from the law very well, and a large scale round up would have a lot of runners which would probably result in a fight or a riot. "And Salem already said she would find a solution to my problems if I didn't find one. And soon, too."

"Impatient is she?" He nodded and the man sighed, "Typical." "At least that much is normal about the crazy bitch." "I suppose you'll be leaving soon then?"

"Soon as she can get her Grimm in place and gauge how much of an attack she needs to send at the fort and not wipe it out." The man raised an eyebrow at him, bobbing his head to the side sarcastically in a 'she cares' question, and Jaune sighed. "She doesn't really care about them, no, but I do. And she won't risk pushing me away for a little blood lust."

"That attached, is she?" He nodded and his father grumbled, "Typical possessive bloody women… Once they pick a guy, he's screwed." "Fine, when are you leaving do you think? I'd like to actually know when my son is leaving home when he plans on coming back."

"I don't know, Dad." Jaune answered honestly, crossing his arms over his chest and moving to lean against the wall across from his father. "I have to track down Ozpin, so I'm headed to Vale first to see Glynda the Headmistress there. She works closely with him, and might be able to help find him. Assuming he isn't there already. Then I can have Ozpin talk to Ironwood and get him to back down, and Atlas shouldn't be a problem for me any more."

"Assuming your friend," Jaune grimaced at the term and his father returned the gesture and amended himself a bit, "Assuming Ozpin can get him to do it, I mean."

"He can. The way they work is that they follow Ozpin, even if his decision making and planning seems a bit…. Lacking, sometimes." Which was rich coming from Jaune, to be fair, but Jaune wasn't a thousands of years old magical girl running an academy for monster hunters or whatever Ozpin really was. "If I get to Ozpin and he tells James to back down, he should do it."

"Are you sure?" His father asked, "Absolutely sure? Because if you do this, and he can't back James down…" "I don't know what will happen… And I won't be able to help." "You have to understand that if you do this, Atlas might very well put a price on your head permanently. And officially, as well, since I made some calls and you don't have one out on you yet. Not officially, at least."

"Then James is definitely doing this because he thinks I'm dangerous, and he's acting in what he thinks is Ozpin's stead. If he wasn't, he'd have an official bounty out on me... " Jaune grimaced at the idea that he could end up being right about that, but ultimately decided to ignore the possibility for now. He'd know using his Semblance if Beacon was a trap, he'd sense it and turn to run.

He also probably wouldn't succeed in that venture, but that was another bridge to cross.

"Explains the Schnee too." His father grunted, and Jaune understood his thought process as he thought it. Winter wasn't expendable, she wouldn't normally be sent on that kind of mission. Not when sending lesser officers with less political fallout to their deaths would work just as well." "Atlas doesn't mind a dead Specialist, but a Schnee is something else…"

"That's morbid." Jaune observed quietly, the older Arc grunting an agreement. Sighing, Jaune continued, "I don't know, I guess we just have to pin our hopes on Salem and Ozpin, as bad as both of those hopes are."

"I still don't understand why you compare the two." His father said quietly, raising a hand to wave off the argument he saw spark in Jaune's eyes and how the younger Arc's shoulder tensed, "Oh, relax, boy. I understand how you feel about the man in the high tower, but you have to at least grant me that he's better than the Queen of the bloody Grimm."

Barely, the only real difference was that Salem at lest was honest in her lack of value for people and her willingness to do harm for her own ends. Ozpin might have talked a big game, but his actions spoke louder, constantly putting people in danger when they didn't need to be and doing his best to turn everyone to his personal advantage. He thought of arguing the point, but Jaune diced not to argue it.

There was little point, he didn't like either of them at all, so why bother arguing with his father about it?

"I guess." He eventually shrugged noncommittally, the older Arc grunting and sighing tiredly. Jaune pushed off the wall and smiled, "I'll be hiding if it doesn't work out, and if it does... Well, I'll be back and we'll go into business like we of looking forward to just being a freight runner, it's… It seems simpler, I guess."

"Compared to the complicated shit show you have been living?" "Life as a huntsman is tame compared to this shit.'" His father barked a life and pushed off the wall, jerking his head towards the interior of the manor. "Come on then, you need somethin' a bit more protective than a beaten upset of old training armor and a damaged sword and shield."

He wasn't surprised by the statement, he'd known the man had something for him in some sense since this morning and it was a large part of why he hadn't gone back to his ship and grabbed his gear later in the day when people began to crowd the streets. A vague sort of sense that his father had something for him,but his father never steered his thinking to it so he hadn't known what it was. So with a spark of curiosity and a bit of added oomph in his steps. he turned to follow the larger Arc through the building.

They hooked a right after they reached the living area and its couches and hearth, headed through the hallways off of it for several minutes before his father stopped in front of a heavy wooden door, reinforced with metal and set into the dark stone at the end of a long hallway. He fished out a large iron key and used it to unlock the thick door, pushing it open with a creak and stepping in without a word. All the while, Jaune felt an excitement welling up in him.

Many rooms in the Arc household were locked up and reserved, kept only for his father, Huntsman who worked for him or with him, and his sisters who had elected to train as fighters. Some were workshops, some were rooms to recover and rest in, some were for storing trophies and a coupe were for studying Grimm related items unlike the other library they'd already visited that taught more mundane items until they decided to become Huntsman or not, or more likely that his father decided if they would be allowed to.

This was a storage room, but not for trophies or anything like that and not for tools, but for weapons, armor and tools for Huntsman. Swords, axes, spears, rifles, and more weapons of every kind lined the wall on one side of the long, narrow room. On the other wall, close enough to te weapon one for Jaune to reach out and touch both if he stretched out both arms, armors lined the walls at least twenty feet down.

The armors varied widely, from being heavily layered with iron, steel and more exotic materials from Atlas and Vacuo to light, padded leathers and cloth gambesons stitched by experts in Vale and Mistral alike, some with light plating on the outside of the material and some with tight hauberks of chainmail as well. All bore the Arc emblem somewhere, usually stitched or painted onto the chests or the shoulders. All were in pristine condition, likely fixed before being stored.

"So, son, well… Normally when of of you kids gets done with your training you get to choose a set of armor for yourself, you didn't get one because… Well." "Because you weren't trained, and you ran away before anything else could be done." He grunted when Jaune looked at him and raised an eyebrow, "Don't say it, I don't feel like the argument. But now you're an Arc Huntsman, and you deserve to be equipped like one." "Even if you're a damn scrawny one…."

The older Arc gestured at the armor and weapons with a hand, "They're all in the same size, the uh, the rooms are separated that way. Most are for women, so just ignore them… So, take what you want. I'll be in the hall waitin', just…. Tell me goodbye before you vanish this time?"

The man vanished before Jaune could agree, ducking through the door and heading back down the hall. Jaune could sense his discomfort even from here, part discomfort about something and part anger, both of which were probably him trying to approach Jaune the Huntsman, and dealing with Jaune the Boy Who Ran Away.

The internal conflict was understandable, even in Jaune's eyes, though his Semblance biased him to sympathy more than some would. At least, when he had the time to properly absorb it and digest it, kind of like a meal. Anyone could eat something, sure, but you couldn't taste it unless you sat and absorbed it, enjoyed it slowly and let it sink in.

Something Jaune was often avoiding, or unable to do.

Sighing, Jaune couldn't help the wide, excited grin as he was given free reign of the entire room. After five minutes, he realized the monumental task at hand. How was he supposed to sort through all these amazing, historical sets of gear, and pick ONE set to take? They were all so amazing!

Eventually, he did pick one of the many pieces of armor, setting aside pieces that didn't quite fit for whatever reason or that he didn't like the look of. Some were too heavy, or were designed for more 'mature' female figures, and he frowned at the frustration it caused. Why did he have to be the only Arc male so scrawny? It would figure with his luck.

The choice he made was a medium set of armor, enough to protect him without slowing him down too much to bear and came with a set of padded black trousers made of thick burlap-like material, stiff everywhere except the joints and thick enough to turn simple blades and weak claws aside easily and a matching black cloth shirt, padded like a gambeson but thinner and lighter, probably intended to absorb impacts for him through the armor itself, with a thick and warm looking hood hanging off the shoulders, connected towards the sleeves rather than the actual neckline and looser and larger as a result, probably twice the size of a normal hood. He traded his old, worn out shoes for a set of heavy black combat boots nearby that fit well enough.

Light greaves locked into place on his calves, a dull white painted steel that curved snugly along the backs of his legs and the fronts into a large, curved knee guard that encompassed his entire knee like a large pauldron, studded with several thick bolts on the fronts that would make striking someone with them a bit more painful. They locked together when he pushed them against each other, sliding one down until he heard a dull clicking.

His upper legs were similarly armored by smooth, gently curved steel that clicked into place just above his knee under the knee guard and covered up to the top of his hips on the outside and to his groin. Heavy cloth kamas hung off a thick leather belt over his hips, partly hiding the mildly ridiculous looking points that sprouted when he knelt to test his range of movement, mostly unimpaired by the heavier armor. The kamas were a couple inches thick, able to stop a blade and useful for catching arrows and other projectiles before they could hit his legs, thin chainmail hanging from the top of them and sewn into the cloth stretching down the fabric and sewn to the bottom edges that served to protect the cloth from blades as well. The same kind of chainmail protected the gaps between the armor on his legs and each other, aside from the backs of his knees where they'd block his movement.

A triangular breastplate protected his upper chest, the segmented point at the bottom covering a large portion of his stomach and lower back, the segmenting to prevent the point jabbing into his stomach if he bent over but still protect his sternum and solar plexus. Chainmail attached to the bottom of the solid piece of plating and stretched down, hugging against his stomach and stitched into the belt securely, and he had to slide the kamas, belt and chest piece over his shoulders to get it on, the plating fitting snugly around him when he adjusted it.

The top of the chestpiece curved under his chin so he could look down and around, like a half-circle had been cut out of the top of the steel. Behind his head the metal didn't half the half-circle, partly to denote which side was the front at a glance and massively to protect his neck. Leather straps let the armor hang off his shoulders, pulled taught enough to be secure by the weight of the plate and chain, as well as the belt tied at his waist.

The chest piece tapered up at the ends near his shoulder, the furthest tips a few inches apart with small golden latch points. From there, he could attack oval-shaped pauldrons that hung down his upper arms protectively, the biceps and triceps otherwise unarmored aside from some more of the simple chainmail, fastened with thick leather bands under just under his shoulder blade and just above his elbow, so he could move his arms faster and fight more easily.

The forearms were more heavily armored, thick leather gloves with slight studs in the knuckles and a small plate on the back of his hand, layered plates along the outside of the forearms attached to a leather vambrace that protected his inner arm as well, thick enough to protect the flesh under the cloth beneath it without increasing the weight he had to deal with.

Connected under the left shoulder at the latch point and to a small gold ring at the base of his neck on the back of the armor plate, a shoulder cape with the Arc symbol proudly stitched onto the white cloth hung. The bottom edges of the cloth were tattered slightly, torn from years of hard use before the equipment had been retired. When his arm hung at his side, the shoulder cape hung down to the middle of his forearm.

The plates themselves were painted a weather-dulled white, edged in a dark crimson that reminded him of Ruby's cloak that stood out well against the black under-suit and the dull silver of the chainmail.

Finding a weapon had been even harder, almost none of them being too large for him to use. Eventually, he settled on the familiar, something he knew well enough to use and feel comfortable with fighting.

He picked out a long, leaf-blade sword about four and a half feet long and four inches wide, made of a bright silver metal with a crimson red line along the center of the blade that felt natural in his hands like it had been designed for him. A similarly red and simple crossguard rested at the base of the blade, the simple handle wrapped in dark cloth, a small ruby embedded into the pommel. He scratched at it curiously before shrugging and deciding to ignore it, sliding the blade into the dark wooden sheath on his waist.

The shield was designed like his old, damaged one, and attached to his forearm with a small circlet that he clipped closed just past his elbow and just before his wrist, opening up into a tall rectangular shield with a flick of his wrist to press a button on the metal circle above his wrist. The shield itself was five feet tall and two and a half wide, almost enough to hide behind if he crouched slightly and let it rest on the ground.

Jaune wasn't sure what the shield was made of, but the thick metal was surprisingly light, painted a dull silver with the Arc symbol on the front and edged in red. When he collapsed it, it rested on his forearm and was about the width of a dinner plate and as thick as four, but it felt like his old shield had in his hand.

The pair of weapons seemed almost designed for the armor he wore, and even though they'd been across from each other, they weren't labeled. Maybe they had been set across from each other on purpose, but the other sets of weapons and sets of gear didn't seem to be.

At the end of the day though, that didn't matter. He had his gear, and he needed to get moving.

When he returned to the living area, his father was sitting on one of the couches that faced the hallway they'd gone down and that he'd come from, and he stood as Jaune approached, smiling, "Better. Much, much better." The Arc patriarch reached out to adjust the shoulder cape, smiling sadly, "This armor was made by my aunt, before she died. It's made of a special steel from Atlas, the chainmail too. I forget the name, but it is damned hard. My aunt never took a cut wearing this, so the stories say."

"How did she die then?" He asked curiously, that old joy at hearing about his family's exploits coming back in spite of age, experience and his circumstances.

"You always enjoyed stories, Jaune…." The older man sighed, shrugging, "This isn't an interesting one, though. She drowned when a sea-Grimm capsized a ship she was one." He thumped a finger against the breastplate, chuckling bitterly, "Heavy armor does not an enjoyable swim make." "Which is part of why I don't wear it anymore…" "It, uh, it looks good on you though. My Aunt Lucy always complained about how small her chest was, but… I guess it's useful now, eh?"

"Yeah… I'll probably have to get it fitted properly at some point, but it fits surprisingly well." He smiled at his father and turned to look at the fire. "Before I go, I… I wanted to apologize for running away how I-"

"Don't, Jaune." His father sighed tiredly, raising a hand to wave off the young man's concerns. "I've been doing a lot of thinking, lately, and I… I don't think what you did was wrong. Not really." "Hurtful or not…" "You… I wasn't fair to you. I trained most of your sisters, but if I decided you weren't big enough, I… I refused, and cost most of them their dreams."

"Still." Jaune said quietly, "I shouldn't have run off like that. I… I would still do it again, if I were in that position, but… I'm sorry that it hurt you all." His father nodded with a muted grunt, and the two fell into a moderately comfortable silence until Jaune spoke, "Where is everyone else, anyways? I want to say goodbye to everyone, and I don't even sense anyone nearby."

"With everything goin' on, I sent them off to Vale, to stay at a friend of mine's home." His father sighed tiredly, looking around the empty hall with a strained and aggrieved expression. "Once things, you know… Settle, a bit, I'll have them come back. They left only last night." "So the damn Atlesians wouldn't notice…" "Your sisters wished for me to tell you goodbye when I saw you and that they love you."

He nodded, sighing sadly. He'd hoped to spend a bit more time with them before having to leave, and that was when leaving was just him going out to trade, but now? Now he was worried over Atlas, and what James would do, and finding Ozpin, and trying to corral frigging Salem from going on a damn warpath.

"I… Guess I'll be going then." His father grunted an acknowledgement, sad eyes watching Jaune turn to leave.

"Hold." He called after a second, Jaune turning as he sensed his father's approach. The large man wrapped his armored son in a hug that actually took Jaune by surprise, the man himself hadn't meant it when he moved. He'd decided on it at the last second, wrapping his son in a warm hug and kissing the crown of his head, "You know I love you, right, Jaune? Even though I refused to train you?"

"I do, Father." He answered quietly, wrapping his arms around his father as best he could. "I.. I never doubted that, I just didn't like how you showed it, I guess. I'm just happy you don't, you know… Hold what I did against me."

"Never." His father said sternly, releasing him and holding his shoulders with a bright smile. "You are my son, Jaune. And a good man, underneath everything. Always do as your heart commands, and answer to no man. Least of all your fool of a father. You understand?"

"I think I do." Jaune answered honestly, thinking of Neo, and Pyrrha, and Cinder, and even Roman and Amber to an extent. Even if one of those was more an echo inside Pyrrha than anything else. "I'll protect what is mine and who I care for, and I won't give a damn what anyone says."

His father nodded, clapping him on a shoulder and bidding him goodbye, and Jaune moved for the door. He just had to hope that this wasn't the wrong path for him… Would his friends even want him to save them if he turned to something he and they both hated?

He knew he wouldn't want that, in their position.

Sighing, he pushed open the door and stepped into warm sunlight, a cool breeze blowing down from the mountains and washing across the town gently. He enjoyed it as he made his way back to the ship at the base of the settlement's territory, doing everything he could to ignore the curious looks he got and the even more curious thoughts.

Some wondered at the change of outfit and color, some of them even thinking he struck a more impressive figure in the better armor. Others knew the origins of it and wondered why he was wearing a dead woman's armor, and some of them knew at least half the answer, that Arcs inherited armor and weapons all the time until they got their own.

He let them have their thoughts, for once smiling honestly of his own accord, and continued to his ship. He still had a lot of work to do yet, before he could truly rest and look forward to the rest of his life.

But at the very least, he felt like things were looking up now.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Cadaver :

Salem isn't the type to be up front. At least, not to my thinking. Better to be owed a favor already before calling one in.

Smokey Panda :

Yeah. They need to chill a BIT more than normal for them. But also yeah, Salem either feigning humanity or SHOWING humanity, both are nice changes of pace.

Xager-The-Chaos-King :

Glad you enjoy it. I will confess to some missteps here and there, but I am learning. And I am merely glad you enjoyed it.

HodosAnonymous :

I would think an escort quite nice, milord.