I stayed up until 2 AM to get this out on time. I hope it was worth it!
Chapter 3: Crows
It was almost nightfall when the lights of the town finally appeared in the treeline. The crow had been flying all day with hardly any rest, and now it collapsed unceremoniously on the ground. To any onlooker, it would seem like the tiny black bird had collapsed out of tiredness.
Not drunkenness. Qrow dragged his decidedly less tiny human form to its feet, brushing off his grey cloak. His flask, of course, probably shouldn't have accompanied him on such a crucial and timely journey. But regret wouldn't make his headache, his dry mouth, or his fatigue go away. The drink did, however, make the long and monotonous trip more bearable, and had emboldened him to take such a risk in the first place.
Qrow took one heavy step, found his balance, and began strolling through the damp field toward the village. The clearing of grass was shaded enough to still be holding the remainder of the morning's rain. His feathers, and with them his human clothes and skin, weren't so lucky. They had baked in the sun all day and were covered in dust. A little rain would have been a relief, and it might have even helped clear his head.
He quickened his pace; sentries often got antsy after the sun went down, and he had no desire to take a dozen arrows to the chest. Although his aura could probably handle it. Flying straight over the walls had been another option, but came with its own problems. Most towns didn't appreciate travelers suddenly appearing inside their gates. They preferred it when you walked right through their gate and stated your business. A small town like this probably had a twenty-man watch, with five or six on duty at once, plus the aid of whatever huntsmen were passing through. Armed with whatever rudimentary weapons they had, the town was protected against most small and mid-sized forces of Grimm. Larger ones would be reported to the nearest Kingdom, who would send a force to have the monsters scattered or destroyed.
The ground within fifty yards of the village had been kept clear of brush to deter ambushes. Qrow remained outside the well-maintained circle of dirt, using his sword to cut through small branches in his way. It certainly wasn't designed to do that, but his aura ensured the blade kept its unnatural sharpness no matter how much abuse it took. Creeper vines and sagging magnolia branches yielded before him as he chopped his way through.
The front side of the village was cleared completely as far as he could see, with a dirt path running up to the gate. Lined with stones on both sides, it snaked back and forth for no apparent reason. The path's aesthetic nature clashed with the practical, rough-hewn look of the village walls. Qrow went straight to the gate, paying the twists and turns of the road no heed. It wasn't until he was within a few meters of the entrance that he was stopped.
"Hold it right there!" said a commanding, yet slightly nervous voice from upon the walls. "State your business in Haafen and we'll think about letting you in."
Qrow rolled his eyes, although the gesture was concealed below his hood. "Isn't it sufficient to just say I'm passing through?"
"I wish it were," the watchman responded, "but it's getting late, times are bad, and we've had incidents before. Ambushes and other plots to breach our walls, that have forced us to vet travelers more thoroughly. Will you be staying in town?"
"No," answered Qrow without a hint of uncertainty.
The sentry sounded surprised. "If you're spending any length of time here—actually, even if you turned around right now, you'd be foolish to do so. It's three hours' run to the closest settlement, and the sun's down in less than one."
"Who says I'd be running?" Qrow said, tilting his head. "Can't I just come in already? I'm meeting a friend."
"Very well," said the watchman, unable to find any fault with his explanation. "Stand by the gate and come through as soon as it opens. I can't leave it like that all day."
Qrow grunted in response and walked to the gate, a slight indentation in the wall with logs cut in a criss-cross pattern, unlike the left-to-right of the wall itself. As he approached it the logs were drawn up, pulled by some sort of crude pulley or winch. He headed through and watched as it was lowered behind him.
Haafen's interior was considerably less bare than its exterior. Neatly paved streets of cobblestone ran between rows of houses. The smell of wood smoke was in the air, but not overly heavy. Streetlights on quaint little posts stood on every corner. The houses themselves were simple: log cabins with stone foundations for the most part, but they were spacious, bright, and clean-looking.
While not large enough to have what might be considered neighborhoods, Haafen was clearly divided into a residential and non-residential area. Roughly circular in shape, rows of houses ran from Qrow's left to the far wall of the village. On his right was a large warehouse, a few open areas, some shops, and hopefully, a pub. That was his destination.
"Hey!" said a voice from just behind him. Qrow turned to see the sentry climbing down a ladder on the edge of the wall. The man was older than he would have thought, of medium height and build, black-haired but with a beard that was already greying. His armor was a leather cap and jerkin that looked homemade. He didn't appear to be armed.
"Sorry about earlier," the man said, stopping and leaning against the ladder. "You don't seem like a bad sort."
Qrow nodded, aware that the cloak and oversized sword at his back weren't doing him any favors. "I could say the same of you."
The sentry turned and walked back to the ladder. "I meant it when I said you shouldn't leave town tonight," he called over his shoulder. "I have no doubt you can handle yourself, but finding your way in the forest at night is impossible, even with a light. Do yourself a favor, stay here in town."
I wish I could, Qrow thought, already imagining the effects of the return trip on his weary frame. Putting the thought aside, he ran his hands through his hair, trying his best to look presentable. He had an appointment to keep.
It was late enough in the day that a small crowd was already headed toward a flat-roofed, dingy building, which considering the number of people entering it could only be a bar or restaurant. The crowd gathered outside didn't turn to look at him or whisper as he walked past, meaning the town was used to visitors, wanderers. Qrow's type, at least until this past year.
The Family Man's Folly, the pub was called. Qrow chuckled at the name. Assuming he found who he meant to find here, it was truly ironic.
Qrow pressed through the door, adjusting his sword slightly on his back so it didn't catch in the frame. It was early in the evening and most of The Family Man's patrons were more interested in eating than drinking. Of course, that didn't stop the more unruly ones from arm wrestling, slapping each other on the back, and punctuating every sentence with roars of laughter.
There were also women with them, some even accompanied by their small children. They sat behind tables and booths in the back with nervous expressions on their faces. Likely all they wanted was to eat their food in peace and get out without their husband being dragged into a bar brawl.
It wasn't Qrow's kind of place, that was for sure. He preferred ones with strong drink, friendly barkeeps, and quiet—or better yet, nonexistent—patrons. For the last thirteen months, he'd kept himself at least half-sober, ensuring that his nieces got some form of parenting. Not that they couldn't handle themselves. While he had an excuse for being in the bar, he couldn't risk drinking anymore considering what he had ahead of him.
On that note, what exactly was ahead of him?
"Listen," said Qrow to a clearly overworked server, tapping her hard on the shoulder and nearly spilling her tray of food and drinks.
The woman turned, a dark stain spreading across the collar of her red and gold uniform. Her black hair was pinned to the side of her head, likely for cleanliness, but the style suited her. She briefly looked frightened, but her shoulders relaxed and Qrow realized she had merely been startled.
"Can I help you?" she said, face cross, setting the tray down on the side of the bar.
"Yeah," Qrow said, already red face turning more so. "Look, I'm sorry I almost spilled your food. It's… it's been a day."
"I can sympathize," the server said with a pained smile, gesturing to the overloaded tray. "But I'm too busy to talk right now, and if you're trying to order you should really do it at the bar. Is there something else you need?"
"As a matter of fact," he said, "I'm meeting an old friend. Well, I say meeting, but rather I'm hoping to find him here." He then jerked a thumb at the narrow staircase hugging the wall of the pub. "There wouldn't happen to be more people up there, would there?"
"There are," she answered, pausing for a moment. "Mostly visitors like you who don't enjoy the hustle and bustle. Shady—I mean, mysterious folk. If your friend is anything like you, that would be the place to find him."
"Thanks," Qrow said, turning away.
He hadn't gotten but a single pace when he felt this hand on his shoulder.
"Hey," the server said, turning him around. "We weren't done."
"I'm sorry, was there something else?"
"Not really," she said, looking at the ground. "But I'm off in three hours and I've got nothing to do. You know, if you're finished with your meeting by then…"
"Oh," Qrow muttered. He was about to accept out of instinct when he remembered Ruby and Yang back at home.
That being said, his nieces would be asleep by the time he returned anyway. An extra hour or two couldn't hurt, and really, opportunities like this had been scarce since he'd started caring for them. A smile played across his face.
"I'd love to," he said, walking back toward the staircase.
Jaune struggled to get to his feet, shoes sliding on the carpet but finding no traction. All he succeeded in doing was pushing himself against the far wall of the office. Hopes of saving a helpless civilian had been abandoned; this girl clearly wasn't one. She stared down at him. Her expression hadn't changed, but she seemed amused at his reaction.
His emotions were changing now. Surprise had faded, and he'd dismissed any lust he felt as immature and senseless. But the fear continued to hover over him, irrational and yet perfectly sensible. The only thing he could do was address his mounting confusion.
"Who… who are you?" he managed to get out, voice slightly unsteady. "How did you get here?"
Pouty Lips didn't answer. She leaned forward in her boots and stood up, holding the tip of her umbrella with one hand and the handle with the other. Outside of the armchair, Jaune got a better look at her. Somehow, she was even shorter than she had appeared while sitting. Around the height of his sisters—who weren't even done growing yet. He might have mistaken her for a child if not for the shape of her face, which was narrow and angular. That and, well, the shape of the rest of her.
Any thoughts he had were interrupted as a rasp of metal on metal yanked him back to reality. Pouty Lips' vulpine smile widened as her umbrella's handle did, drawing from within it a shining line of steel. It wasn't so much a sword as it was a skewer, a centimeter or two in diameter at the handle, tapering to a needle point. As she turned the blade it caught the light, revealing a set of tiny metal teeth on the bottom.
"No, no, no," breathed Jaune. He tried to scramble back, but there was nowhere left to scramble. "I didn't mean what I said before! You just surprised me and well… it came out. I take it back, and I promise I'll never bother you again. Just don't hurt me."
Pouty Lips didn't pause, didn't even seem to notice what he had said. She advanced so slowly the three or four meters between them took what felt like an age for her to cross. It was eerie how she hadn't made a sound, save for her breathing. And all the while the sword swung, blade down, back and forth in her hand like a pendulum.
Jaune tugged at Crocea Mors, attempting to free it from his belt loop. He extricated the sword after just a moment, but the accompanying shield was slower in coming, pinned against his back. A few seconds later he stopped, opting to hold his weapon in both hands instead.
This got Pouty Lips' attention. She sneered at the weapon he had drawn. One eye, the pink one, was staring directly at him, while the brown one looked in a completely different direction. Whether she had a lazy eye or was just being creepy was beyond him.
Suddenly a feeling of weakness swept over Jaune. It wasn't until he looked down that he realized why. The tip of Pouty Lips' sword hovered in front of his stomach. A small, jagged hole had been ripped in his brown sweatshirt. He hadn't even seen the strike. His aura had protected him, but if his past experience was any indication it wouldn't do so much longer.
More pressing was the fact that she had tried to stab him. Jaune swept his own sword up to bat the skewer away, but she withdrew it before his own, much heavier blade could reach it. Expecting an impact, the wild swing put him slightly off balance. Before he could recover Pouty Lips struck again, blade flicking in and out like a serpent. Another hole in his jacket. Another horrible, draining feeling, which stopped almost immediately this time. Although he couldn't put his finger on why, he somehow felt his aura emptying. His protection was gone.
It couldn't end here. He hadn't grown up, gone to school, babysat his sisters for hours on end, trudged through school, lost his way, found his way, applied to Beacon, been accepted, and survived a terrorist attack just to die here, alone and unaccomplished. If this was a movie, it would be the part where he picked his sword back up, remembering a secret tactic or hidden vulnerability of his opponent. He would fight to the end, vanquishing his sworn enemy with his final breath. Or it would be the part where the door suddenly was busted in to admit Ruby, accompanied by a squad of police, to turn the tide at the last possible second.
But no. This wasn't a movie, and this girl wasn't even his sworn enemy. Just a stupid, stupid, psycho who was going to kill him out of spite. Poke him in the guts and watch him bleed like a stuck pig, or saw through his neck like a fallen tree trunk. All he could do was give up, act like a fool, and hope that he seemed too pathetic to kill.
Jaune dropped to his knees. He couldn't decide whether it would be better to have his eyes open or closed, but he didn't dare close them. The blade didn't move, it appeared against his neck, metal teeth prickling the skin of his throat. He froze, sucking in a breath. He hadn't blinked; he was sure of that. Likewise, the girl hadn't moved. So wasn't blind or crazy, at least he didn't think he was. Something else was at play. An ability, a semblance like Ruby's tornado, maybe.
Whatever relief he felt from this realization was nothing compared to the horror of a grisly death. Yet the blade at his throat remained still. The lack of action gave Jaune the courage to meet the eyes above him once again. If they had been unfocused before, they certainly weren't now. Pouty Lips blinked, and with a feeling of unsettlement, he realized her eyes had switched colors. Her right eye was now pink and her left eye brown. What the hell was going on?
The standoff couldn't last. With agonizing slowness, the sword forced him farther and farther back until it was wall on one side and metal on the other. Then something slimy and soft ran down the bridge of his nose. Jaune realized what had happened and shivered. She had licked him. Its meaning was perfectly clear. I own you. I can do whatever the hell I want. Unable to breathe, Jaune abandoned his composure and unleashed a silent tirade on the girl in front of him.
"Why can't you listen?" he screamed internally, lips still, directing his thoughts at her smug features. "You obviously can hear me, why won't you fucking talk? What kind of screwed up prick raised you, that you won't even speak to me before gutting me like a fish? Do you work for those sickos that attacked the bank? WHY DO I DIE NOT KNOWING?"
Pouty Lips recoiled at his last words, although Jaune hadn't spoken them. It was like a mental switch had been flipped. The pressure and discomfort he felt immediately ceased. Even her unshakable smug grin, which had stayed on her face throughout, was replaced with an O of surprise.
Qrow put his hood back up as he ascended the narrow stairs to the second floor. Every step sent up a fresh cloud of dust and prompted a creak or a groan from the withered boards. The ceiling of the second floor was so low that he had to stoop slightly to avoid scraping his head. Stacks of crates, barrels, and a large covered vat took up most of the floor space. Stained wooden tables had been squeezed between and around them. Light came only from the staircase and a few dim lanterns, set above each table.
The people seated at the tables leaned over to speak in whispers to one another, rarely speaking aloud. Most of them wore hoods like Qrow's own. Many, he was sure, were undercover or rogue huntsmen, although there was little difference between the two. Taking a step towards the middle of the room, Qrow looked over those seated.
A little over a dozen people. Two roughneck men in the corner, playing cards with a young woman with a confident smile and a scar running down her cheek. None of them made any attempt to hide their appearance or had any reaction to him arriving, which meant they could be safely ignored.
Six figures in a collection of black and brown hooded cloaks seated close together around a table only meant for three. They seemed to pay him no attention, but Qrow could tell from the angles of their heads and the pause in their conversation that they were checking him out. Suspicious, and a potential threat, but not who he was looking for.
Qrow knew that if the person he sought was here, they'd be alone, and seeking as little attention as possible. That narrowed the field a bit. Crossing behind a stack of barrels, he found a few more tables. Most had a single occupant, who in several cases, was slumped over or rolling their head feebly on the table. He had reached the true drunkards, the lowest of the lot. Shut out away from the rest of the bar—hell, from the rest of the world, they were a pitiful sight to behold. Not that it wasn't hypocritical of him to judge, since he'd spent a solid two years of his life in places like this one.
This was the place to look, although the act of identifying people might prove to be the hard part. He couldn't exactly go yank the hood off every person or go around, tapping them on the shoulder and asking them. It was time to be a bit more inventive.
"I never thought I'd find a dragon here," Qrow said. His voice was loud enough for normal conversation, but in the silence of the back room he might as well have shouted. "I recall they preferred to roam free."
Some of the more able-bodied of the drinkers turned around to glower at him. One spat on the floor. Others just clutched their hands to their ears, blocking out the noise. But one man raised a hand in the air, keeping his head on the table. His curled fingers formed the "O.K." sign.
Qrow grabbed an empty chair and dragged it over, worn chair legs grating against the floor. He sank into the chair and propped both elbows up on the table.
"Really?" whispered Qrow, pulling his hood away from his face but leaving it on his head.
The voice that whispered back was lower and grittier than he had remembered it, but it was still familiar.
"Hello, Qrow," said Taiyang. His head didn't rise from its position on the table. "It's good to see you. I bet you feel right at home here."
"Shut it, Tai," Qrow snapped back without raising his voice. "You're not exactly in a position to be making jokes at my expense."
"I was just being friendly."
"By the way," Qrow said, looking around to see if they had drawn any attention, "I expected you to be more surprised."
Tai raised his head a little, careful to keep his face in the shadows. He shrugged. "I've got contacts, and they told me a while back that you were looking for me. I knew you'd find me eventually."
"You make it sound like you didn't want to be found."
"To put it plainly, I didn't. Sure, we're probably safe, but probably isn't something I'm betting my life on. You took a big risk coming here yourself. What if the kids—"
"You're trying to change the subject by bringing up the kids," Qrow interrupted. "And yes, I'm sure you want to hear about them. Do you want to explain why you haven't come back yet?"
"They're still after me."
"They again? Honestly, Tai, I'd feel better about this whole mess if you just told me who's after you."
"I can't tell you."
"Why not?"
"Because if I did, you would go after them. Don't deny it, you know you would. That would put you at risk, it would put me at risk, and most importantly it would put Ruby and Yang at risk. Face it, if you knew who was after me we wouldn't be talking right now. You'd be tracking them down."
Qrow resisted the urge to shake his former teammate by the shoulders. "You act like I'm the impulsive one," he said, rubbing his eyes. "It's funny, considering you're the one who fled your own home with nothing but the clothes on your back, leaving your kids alone and expecting me to watch them. You act like I'm not smart enough or patient enough to think of a subtler way to deal with the people who are out for you. I'm happy to cover your ass, Tai, I just need to know what to cover it from."
Tai nodded, letting the words sink in. "I owe you a debt," he said after a moment, nodding slowly. "I wish I could tell you what I'm dealing with, but I'm not selfish enough to risk my family for a shot at clearing the bounty on my head. But here's what I can tell you. It's not what we're dealing with that's the problem, it's our tools for dealing with it. Or lack thereof."
"And what's that?"
Tai pulled up the corner of his hood, allowing one sky-blue eye to stare up at Qrow. "You know the Great War," he said, voice taking on a strange reverence. "We all know how it started, how it progressed, and we're all told how it ended. But you and I both know what really happened."
Qrow groaned. "Don't bring up your crackpot council again."
"A crackpot council that saved tens of thousands of lives, and is responsible for Remnant being what it is today. That's just the facts. Well, the real facts."
"I have no doubts your beloved council existed, Tai. I've seen the family tree, and I believe you. But it doesn't exist now, and it doesn't need to. We're trying to prevent war, not end it. And what are the odds of finding twelve direct descendants, anyway? Or suitable replacements, if there aren't any."
"You're underestimating the capabilities of the council, Qrow. They're perfectly capable of preventing war as well as ending it. And a host of other things, most likely. Its full potential was never realized. Besides, I'm not asking you to find twelve people. Just have Ruby and Yang tested, and anyone else you find with potential."
"Oh sure, just have Ruby and Yang tested," mocked Qrow. "and some other kids too. You haven't even seen your kids in a year, Tai, what a great way to show them how much you care about them. I only got here in one day because I could pass over all the forests, all the Grimm. And you want me to drag them five times that far, exposed to all kinds of danger, along with some random kids I've never met. You're delusional."
"Fine, I guess I can't convince you," said Tai, throwing up his hands. "At least tell me how they're doing."
Qrow nodded. "Yang got into Beacon, like she wanted to. Easily, of course. Ruby went on a little vigilante crook-catching spree one day while she was in town, and ended up getting talked to by the police."
Tai sucked in a breath. "Is she okay?"
"More than okay. Someone over at Beacon heard about the incident, read how she had taken out over five criminals on her own. They saw her test scores at Signal and, well, they asked her to come early."
"Beacon? At fifteen? She'll be destroyed."
"She's come a long way in a year. I, uh, let the two of them go into the city today. They probably messed around for most of the day, but they should have made it to the bank at some point. Yang's old enough now that she can handle the paperwork herself. They're probably home by now."
"I sure hope so, Qrow. I sure hope so."
I tried to cut down on the number of narration jumps this chapter. Let me know if you noticed the difference, and which style you prefer. As usual, you can make my day by reviewing this chapter (or PMing me if you'd feel more comfortable). See you guys in two weeks.
5/20: Minor updates today. Fixed a few bizarre typos, and I also moved a paragraph from the end forward to a later chapter. For those of you that read it already, consider it an "early bird bonus".
