A/N: In honor of my recent starting playthrough of Fable Anniversary, I have decided to begin writing the official prequel to Joan Arc's Legend that takes place hundreds of years prior, during the time of the Heroes Guild and Jack of Blades. Welcome, to the beginning
From The Smallest Acorn
Summary: Jaune was nothing more than a simple farm boy, yet one terrible night shatters his view on the world and he finds out that his destiny is something much greater: becoming the greatest Hero to ever walk the soil of Albion.
*Innocence Lost*
Jaune wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, taking a few moments to catch his breath and resting the hoe against his shoulder. The blond boy may have only been six years old, but life in Oakvale meant that everyone had to put in work in order to live comfortably.
"Jaune, my boy!" The sound of his father calling him made Jaune look up and he stood still as his father strode towards him. His father Nicholas was a great bear of a man, towering over the heads of the villagers and made of solid muscle. His long blond hair was tied into a sloppy ponytail and his rough and coarse beard covered his jaw, sweat staining his white shirt from work in the fields. "Have you gotten Theresa her birthday present yet? I do hope you hadn't forgotten again, young man."
His stern words made the boy wince and look down at his feet. "N-no sir…I tried saving, but I don't have any gold." It wasn't strictly a lie; he didn't have enough gold saved up even with his work on the farm. But he wouldn't admit to his father's face that he had once again completely forgotten it was his older sister's birthday for the second year in a row. He'd be furious.
"Ah. I see. That can be easily solved." Nicholas smiled warmly and knelt in front of him on one knee. "I do have some spare gold that you can earn. A few good deeds around the village should suffice. If I hear the villagers putting in a good word for you, I can provide the necessary gold to buy Theresa her present."
Jaune's eyes lit up in a heartbeat. "Y-yes sir!"
"There's a good lad." Nicholas ruffled his son's hair and chuckled heartily. "You might want to have a bit of a washing, though. No one's going to want you to handle any favors if you walk up to them smelling like a hobbe."
Jaune took a whiff of his armpits and immediately saw his father's point. His nose scrunched up in disgust and he retched. He smelled rather ripe from a hard day's work, and he picked up his hoe to carry it into the barn. "Yes, sir."
Nicholas watched him go with a small smile, only for it to drop as soon as he saw his wife approach from their house. Clad in simple trousers and shirt, no one in Oakvale knew that the woman who had lovingly raised two children on a farm with her husband was the infamous Balverine Slayer, Scarlet Robe. "Good afternoon, my dear."
"It is, is it not?" Scarlet smiled and stood on the tips of her toes to plant a soft kiss on Nicholas's cheek. "Jaune seemed more eager to wash up than I've ever seen. Have you finally driven some sense into our boy?"
"I wish." Nicholas snorted. "Jaune is merely washing up before running a few errands around the village. I told him no one wants to an errand boy who smells like a rotten hobbe."
"Errands? What have you gotten our boy into?" Scarlet put her hand on her hip, scowling.
Nicholas winced under his wife's withering glare. "Nothing. He needs the money to buy Theresa her present. You're worried for him."
"Of course I'm bloody worried!" Scarlet scowled and tossed back her long red hair. "He's six years old, not a ruddy Hero!"
"He carries your blood," Nicholas said calmly. "Trust me; he'll be safe walking around Oakvale. If he's anything like you, he'll soon find this kind of life dreary and yearn for something more."
"That's just it!" Scarlet threw her hands in the air in frustration. "I don't want Jaune to suffer the same as I did! That kind of life is not one to wish on anyone; it's a horrible burden, knowing that the Guild comes first. Why do you think I left? I want Jaune to experience a life I wish I could have. Both of our children. They don't deserve to be roped into fate's twisted little games!"
Nicholas embraced her, sending a silent prayer to the Gods in the hopes they would watch over his son and daughter if the worst ever came to fruition. May Avo grant them the strength they need.
Nicholas was no fool. Outside the gates of Oakvale lay the twisted marshes of Darkwood and bandits frequented the trade routes. The world outside the safety of Oakvale was a dangerous place. As one of the village's main hunters he knew that better than anyone. Yet still, even though his youngest child was venturing out into the village all on his lonesome, Nicholas still felt remarkably at ease. True, Jaune was only six years old and had no idea about the harsh realities of Albion, but he could grow into it with proper care and nurturing. It wouldn't be long before the boy began to join his father on hunts and learned the trade
"Has he shown any signs?" he dared to ask.
His wife shook her head, allowing Nicholas's wide arms to hold her against his broad chest. "No. Not even the smallest display of magic. But I can sense it, even if I haven't had anything to do with the Guild since I gave birth to Theresa. The power flows within his veins as it does mine."
"And are you content to let your son go on not knowing the power he possesses? The good he could do?"
"…that's not fair."
"I agree." Nicholas nodded along with his wife. "Hiding his heritage will do nothing but cause problems. He has every right to know and make his own choices. I'm not saying doing it right now," he added hastily upon seeing Scarlet open her mouth to scold him. "But rather wait until he's older. Let him enjoy his life as it is for now. You wouldn't want rumors to spread about him being unwell, would you?"
Scarlet grumbled and reluctantly agreed. "No. If he ever asks about his heritage, I shall not lie to him. I'd rather him know the truth and be able to welcome him back if the Guild life is too much as opposed to him running away full of resentment."
"I share the same opinion." The great bear of a hunter laughed to lighten the mood. "With our children all but guaranteed to occupied for the next two or three hours, why don't we use the opportunity to enjoy ourselves a little?"
Scarlet produced the slightest of blushes at the implications and it was hard to imagine her as one of the Witchwood Arena's greatest champions. The slayer of a hundred balverines. "Another child? I thought you were too old for strenuous exercise."
Scarlet laughed and ran back inside with Nicholas not far behind her.
Jaune had only ever ventured down to Oakvale's small markets in the company of his mother and father. Being trusted to go off by himself was exciting and he let his ears roam free. The central plaza was full of plenty of villagers going about their days, some laughing drunkenly in the nearby tavern and occasionally the blond boy could hear snippets of other conversations.
An attractive young woman wearing a sleeveless shirt and tight trousers waved him over desperately through the crowd of villagers and Jaune quickly made his way over to her. Her long brown hair was tied back in a similar fashion to his father's, albeit less unkempt and sticky from farm work. He recognized her as one of the villagers who bought meat from his father, Claire.
"How can I help you, Miss Claire?" Jaune asked politely.
"Oh, Jaune!" Claire smiled, but it was forced. The blond boy could remember the same look on his mother's face whenever she secretly caught him doing something he wasn't supposed to and sat him down for a talking to.
"I'm looking for that moronic drunk I call a husband," she said, pinching her brow and letting her displeasure show. "Knowing the slag, he's off with some other woman. I raise his children and clean his house, and this is how he bloody repays me? Say, if you find him, let me know, will you? I'll put in a good word for you."
Jaune did not normally pay much attention to the gossip that floated around the village, but as one of his father's customers Claire often came around the house to vent to his mother. More than once he overheard conversations about Claire suspecting her husband having an affair behind her back. Nicholas had been furious and humbly suggested removing something from the unfaithful one's body. Jaune did not understand what his father meant, but his mother and Claire certainly did and agreed with him on it. They never followed through with the threat, otherwise Oakvale would be alive with the gossip.
"Where do you think he might be?" Jaune asked.
"Probably with that busty blonde harlot Lucy, up the hill." Claire pointed up towards the furthest left house on the top of the hill where his own family's home sat. "I'd go up there myself, but I've got the little ones to watch."
It wasn't a long walk away, and it would be something his father would be proud of. He always said that having a good reputation in town was good for business; no one wanted to buy meat from a liar. Be honest, he said.
"I'll find him, Miss," Jaune promised. "And I'll tell you what exactly he's doing up there."
"Thank you, dear." Claire sighed in relief. "It's good to see your mother and father instilled some decency in you."
Jaune ran off, breaking into a quick run as he rushed through the bustling central plaza. Running was always something he was good at, being faster than the other children in the village. Even those much older than him had trouble keeping up with his pace. Working with his father in the fields only did favors for him physically.
When he reached the top of hill, he paused to catch his breath and resting his hands on his knees. His breaths came out hard and fast and the blond boy blinked little droplets of sweat out of his eyes before pressing on.
He approached the first house on the left, the one Claire had pointed to, and he raised his hand to knock on the door when he heard someone around back. It was a man, clearly excited by something and Jaune heard a woman giggle not soon after. Just like Claire suspected. A strange feeling of anger built up within the blond boy and he stopped, chiding himself silently and remembering one of the lessons his father had taught him.
"Don't rush in like an angry balverine, son. It is crucial that you get all of the facts you can first before acting."
Jaune lowered his fist and reigned the anger in, reminding himself that Claire or his father wouldn't be impressed with him kicking the wrong person's door down. Especially on his sister's birthday.
Every good deed is important. I don't want to ruin her birthday.
He hadn't seen his older sister yet; she had risen before he did and was most likely playing on the other side of Oakvale, near the gates. Being the older sibling, she often got to wander the village by herself if she was home before supper.
Jaune dropped into a low crouch, stepping around the house as lightly as he could. He rounded the back corner and fell into a pair of rosebushes at the sight of a man aggressively kissing a buxom blonde woman.
"Oh you're so much better than that dreary wife of mine," the man groaned, squeezing the blonde woman's buttocks with a growl. "Claire is never in the mood."
Jaune had heard everything he needed to.
He didn't dare approach them, lest the man try to beat him or give chase. Pulling himself out of the bushes as quietly as he could, Jaune scrabbled to his feet and winced at the stinging cuts the rosebushes had left behind. Blasted thorns.
The blond farm boy ran down the hill as quickly as possible, pushing past and dodging other villagers. Some yelled for him to slow down, but he ignored them, not stopping until he reached Claire's house.
The brunette's light green eyes widened at the sight of the numerous cuts lining his legs and rushed over to him. "Jaune! What happened!?"
"Fell into some bushes, Miss," he mumbled in embarrassment. "I found your husband back there. He was snogging another woman."
Claire's eyes darkened with fury and her lip curled into a snarl. Even if it wasn't directed at him, Jaune still flinched away. She was scary when she was mad. "I knew it! Can you please keep an eye on the little ones? I'm going to talk to your father."
"Yes, Miss Claire."
She stomped away, muttering curses under her breath, and Jaune counted himself thankful for not being the one to drive a normally sweet and caring woman into a murderous frenzy. Dad will be happy I told the truth. And didn't get into any trouble in doing so.
One step closer to being able to buy his older sister a birthday gift.
Approximately twenty minutes later, Jaune was on the very edge of a large crowd, frozen in shock at the sight of his father lugging an unconscious man behind him, an angry scowl on his face. In the center of the village plaza was an old wooden device with numerous grooves cut into it and his father locked the man into it, his head and arms sticking out lamely.
"You all know the punishment for committing acts of adultery," Nicholas's voice thundered over the crowd, stunning them silent. "Let this be a reminder of what happens to those who break our laws." While not the mayor, his father was the best hunter in Oakvale and his words carried weight.
Nicholas turned to the man, whose face Jaune could see clearly now. It was Claire's husband, the adulterer. "The stocks will be where you remain until the morning. Should anyone try to set you free, they will be punished with you."
The man whimpered and on the sidelines with her arms laden with spoiled food, Claire smiled viciously. Her scary look dropped when she saw Jaune and gave him a friendly wave, winking. She had told his father what he did.
Nicholas stepped away from the stocks and the blonde woman Jaune had caught with Claire's husband earlier wept as the villagers began to pelt the two with spoiled fruits and vegetables. Jaune watched a cabbage soar into the man's face, a chant rising amongst the angry villagers. "Boo! Boo!"
"Rubbish! Filth! Slime! Muck!"
"Boo! Boo! Booooooo!"
As the crowd pelted the two adulterers with their rotten tomatoes and apples (or whatever else they had in their arms at the time), Nicholas made his way through to him, kneeling to ruffle his hair.
"You did a good thing telling Miss Claire the truth about Craig," he said softly. "And she sends her gratitude for watching her little ones. I'm sorry you had to see all that, son, but our laws must be adhered to. I had to send a message, lest our village become riddled with savages."
"N-no, I understand," Jaune stammered, looking past his father and watching with wide eyes as the man in the stocks was smacked squarely in the face again by a spoiled cabbage.
"Look at me, son." His father's voice demanded his attention once more and Jaune's heard turned quickly to face him properly. "You are a good young man in the making. That is something I'm certain you will never have to suffer. Don't let the mob worry you; you have done nothing wrong and already people are beginning to talk about how you uncovered this treachery. You've done well, lad."
"Thank you, Father." He lowered his head on instinct and was surprised when his father stopped him. The older blond cupped his chin and shook his head.
"Carry your head high. There's nothing for you to be ashamed of, right?"
"R-right…"
"Say it like you mean it, son." Nicholas shook his head.
"Right!" Jaune's squeaky voice tried its best attempt at sounding firm.
"Nicholas laughed heartily and dragged him into a hug. "Ah, that's my boy! Don't forget, there's still people here who could use a hand or two. Just stay out of trouble like you are, and I'll give you the gold for Theresa's present. Now run along, my boy."
The young farm boy didn't have to be told twice and he scampered off away from the jeers of the mob and down towards the west side of Oakvale. Jaune didn't stop until he reached the warehouses. Several crates filled with goods from other parts of Albion were resting outside, and the warehouse owner waved him down. "Hey, kid! Come here a minute!"
Jaune nervously walked over to him, relaxing when he saw the man was completely unarmed. "What can I do for you, sir?"
"Sir? How quaint." The man chuckled before taking a closer look at Jaune's slightly dirty trousers and messy blond hair. "Wait a minute, you're Nicholas's boy, aren't you? Heard about what you did. Good work, exposing that dirty bugger. In fact, I could use that kind of trust right now."
"What do you need?" Jaune asked.
"I need someone to keep an eye on these barrels while I grab a quick bite," the warehouse owner explained. "I'm afraid that if I leave without my produce being watched, it'll be smashed to bits. I don't want to have to explain to your father while the arrows he asked for are suddenly splinters of wood."
"I can do that! Not one miscreant will get past me!" Jaune boasted, trying to puff his chest out like his dad did whenever he was proud. The man burst out laughing and for a moment, Jaune wondered if he was laughing at him.
"Oh, this village is in good hands if you keep that attitude up!" The man grinned and wiped his hands down the front of his grey shirt. "I'll let Nicholas know his son is dependable and trustworthy. Be back after I get some lunch."
He left, heading towards the tavern and leaving Jaune alone with the barrels of merchandise to protect.
Not soon after the man left, a short-haired boy around Jaune's age came up to him, grinning. "Hey, you!"
"Hmm?" Jaune looked at him in confusion. "What are you doing here? Who are you?"
"Not important. My brother says there are valuables in those barrels!" the boy said greedily. "Smash it up so we can grab it!" He ran forward only to bounce into Jaune's chest. He fell on to his back, looking at him in annoyance. "Oi! You just going to stand there like a bleeding lemon?"
Jaune stood his ground and even if they were the same age, the blond had height. "I'm not letting you wreck them. Go away."
The boy stomped his feet on the ground, but he didn't try and fight Jaune. Instead, he pouted and stomped away with a grumble. "You're no fun at all. Stupid lemon."
Jaune felt his anger rise at the insult and for a moment, he was sorely tempted to run over and clobber the boy on the head.
"Don't start fights for no reason. Wait for them to throw the first punch." Nicholas's words rung in his ears, and he lowered the fist he clenched, taking a deep breath to calm himself. It wasn't worth getting in trouble over. Not when he'd inevitably have to explain to his mother and father why he had started a fight. Jaune let the insult go and turned his focus onto the matter at hand.
He only had to stand guard for another ten minutes and the warehouse owner was relieved to find none of his stock was reduced to smithereens. "Thank you kindly, young lad. I trust there was no trouble?"
"None at all." Jaune smiled. It really hadn't been any trouble. The irritating little boy from earlier hadn't come back around to bother him since Jaune told him to bugger off. It was a simple request, but it did give him a better reputation in the village.
"Thank you again. I'll be sure to tell your father," the man promised. "In fact, I think he's looking for you right about now. Tell him his arrows are here; he'll be eager to hunt again." Last week, Oakvale's blacksmith had suffered a major shortage on arrows and Nicholas had not been able to hunt as often as he wanted to. Food was still put on the table every day, but the profits made at the meat stall were low. His mother had not been pleased, but Nicholas took it in stride and used the time to work more on the farm.
Jaune took the sign to leave the man to his business and he left, walking back towards his family's house to tell his father the news. In the plaza, some villagers will still chucking random objects at the man in the stocks and Jaune ducked under a tomato, feeling it ruffle his hair as it soared overhead. It hit the imprisoned man in the crotch, and he groaned weakly in pain; he was completely unable to do anything in his humiliating position.
The blond farm boy made his way along the otherwise quiet dirt roads of Oakvale, and he reached his house in mere minutes. He went inside and breathed in the delicious smell of one of his mother's famous beef pies, finding his father sitting at the kitchen table. "Father, the man who runs the warehouse said your arrows arrived."
"Did he, now?" Nicholas's eyes shone. He so did enjoy a good hunt. "Excellent. I'll come down. Come with me; you should always know who your potential customers are if they're locals."
"Really!?" Jaune bounced up in excitement.
"Of course, my boy." Nicholas nodded and stood up from his seat with a great stretch. The tall and broad shouldered hunter reached his full height and sighed upon seeing his wife roll her eyes. "Don't give me that look; our boy should know what his father does."
"I know. But don't you think he should take some time to rest? He has been running around all afternoon," Scarlet pointed out. Jaune was sweaty again and his legs did ache from running as much as he had, but he didn't feel tired yet.
"I'm not tired yet," Jaune insisted. "Really! I could keep going all day!"
Was it just him, or did panic flash across his mother's face for the briefest of moments? It was so quick he might have missed it if he wasn't looking directly at his mother.
"Fine," Scarlet sighed. "But do please try to be back before supper. I'll be most unpleased if you come home late." She stared knowingly at Nicholas, who winced.
"We'll be back soon," the older blond promised. "I just need to pick up some supplies; it's far too late for me to round up enough men for a hunt today. Tomorrow morning will suffice."
"Do be careful, will you?"
"It's just across town. What could possibly go wrong?"
As it turns out…
Everything. Everything could go wrong, as Jaune was about see even if he didn't know what the future would bring.
Jaune and his father arrived at the warehouse on the far end of Oakvale and the man running it let out a yell of greeting. "Nicholas! Good to see you! I take it your boy told you the good news?"
"Indeed." The tall blond man nodded and shook his hand. "It will be good to get these old bones moving again. I might even take my son along with me in the morning; never too young to begin learning how to provide for yourself."
"Your boy is a good one, Nicholas." The other man looked at Jaune and gave him a thumbs up. "Reliable and trustworthy too. He watched the merchandise for me earlier when I went to grab a bite to eat. If only more of these snotty little indigents took after him."
"Ha!" Nicholas laughed. "I'm glad to hear that. Now, to business. How many and how much did it cost?"
"I have four quivers with twenty two arrows in each," the man replied. "Total cost comes to twenty eight gold coins. Bloody taxes."
Nicholas dug in the pockets of his trousers until he found a satchel of gold coins, counting them in front of the man so he could see the blond wasn't going to rip him off. "Here you are, Daniel. Thank you very much; I do appreciate this."
"Nick, you don't have to do that every time I get a shipment in," the man, now known as Daniel, said with a chortle. "Of all the people in Oakvale I'd expect to steal from me, you are not anywhere close to being on the list. Your son, too. I see he takes after you."
Nicholas ruffled Jaune's messy hair. "He does, doesn't he?"
He dropped his voice to a whisper and handed Jaune three extra coins. "Here; I promised you I'd give you the gold to buy Theresa her present if I heard good things about you around town. You've done well, lad. There's a merchant over by the tavern; I'm sure he has something in stock you could buy."
"Yes, sir." Jaune accepted the gold, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having earned some actual pocket money even if the blond boy wasn't going to use it for himself. "What about you?"
"I have to fill out a few forms and talk to some of the hunters," his father answered. "Go ahead; I'll meet you and Theresa at home."
"Understood." There was no room for further questions and Jaune did as he was told. The dirt roads had quieted, though the man in the stocks remained in his prison. His father had been as good as his word; not a single passerby made any attempt to free him. The occasional sneer and insult were thrown his way and Jaune paid him no mind. Oh the man would be furious at being caught in the act, but the blond boy knew that no one in Oakvale would be willing to infuriate his father by lashing out at him. Nicholas didn't take kindly to any who intended to cause his family harm. In as close knit of a community as Oakvale, where all the adults knew each other, justice would be taken into their hands.
The young blond boy walked through the central plaza and sure enough, just as his father had said, a merchant had set up a small stall outside of the local tavern. He was a funny-looking man, with a large moustache that curved upwards and a black top hat on his head. He wore a dark grey overcoat over a bright yellow shirt and matching grey trousers, and he peered down at the farm boy before him.
"Hello there, young sir," he greeted warmly. "Come to take a look at my wares?"
"Yes, sir." Jaune nodded. "Do you have anything I can buy for three gold coins? It's for a gift."
"I do!" The merchant grinned and spun around to pluck something off his stall. "Box of chocolates, perfect for any gift. Specially made in Knothole Glade. They might not have much to offer apart from that bloody arena, but they do know their way around sweets. Whoever you're buying them for is sure to find them pleasing to their palate."
Jaune handed over the three gold coins his father had given him for his work around the village and in return he was given the box of chocolates. He had his sister's birthday present, and a weight was lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you, sir."
Jaune left the stall, the man waving him farewell. Theresa liked to spend most of her time in the fields, and Jaune walked down the roads until he reached them. Across from the fields was a large cemetery, supposedly one of the largest in Albion according to his mother and father. In the fields, his sister danced and played amongst the scarecrows that were set up to drive away the carrion feeders.
Theresa saw him and ran over, tackling him to the ground with a leaping hug. "Jaune!"
"Oof!" The blond boy was winded from being ran over and he struggled to get the words out with his sister latching on to him. "S-sis! Air!"
"Oh! I'm sorry." Theresa let go and Jaune stood up, dusting himself off. "I hope you haven't forgotten what day it is like last year."
"Not this time." Jaune smiled and handed his sister the box of chocolates that had miraculously hadn't been crushed by the attack hug. "Happy Birthday, Theresa."
"Chocolates? Just as I dreamed." Theresa dragged him into a hug and rubbed her knuckles into his head affectionately. "I didn't wake you up at night, did I? I'm sorry if I did; I know you had to work with Father in the morning."
"No." Jaune shook his head. "Bad dream?"
"You could say that…" Theresa looked around in a panic. "Wait…something's wrong!"
It was quiet. Too quiet.
A villager came running through the gates, eyes wide in a panic. "Run! Bandits!" He didn't get much further before he toppled over, a pair of arrows sticking out of his back. Just past the gate, a large group of bandits wielding axes, swords and torches came running into Oakvale.
The village was under attack and there were no guards to fight off the invaders.
"Jaune, hide!" Theresa shoved him into some bushes. "And don't come out, no matter what! I'm going to get Father!"
"But-"
"No buts!" Jaune recoiled at his sister's anger, jumping back into the bushes. "I love you, brother."
Jaune whimpered and covered his head, drawing his body into a weak and pathetic crouch to stay hidden. He could see the bandits setting buildings on fire with their torches, mercilessly cutting down any who got in their way. The men, the women, even the children. None were spared.
It was a massacre.
Jaune's eyes widened in horror at the sight of those he knew being butchered, vomiting as blood spilled along the roads of Oakvale.
It's just a bad dream, it's a bad dream!
Jaune let out another weak whimper and shut his eyes, wishing for nothing more than this nightmare to come to an end.
Jaune didn't know how long he hid in the bushes his sister had shoved him into. The smoke from the raging fires forced him to cough and open his eyes, but apart from the crackling of flames, the village was silent. The bandits had gone and left a trail of devastation in their wake. Not a single building was left untouched; windows were shattered, doors kicked down, and bodies strung from the rafters like some sort of sick trophy display.
The farm boy retched, letting his stomach empty itself and crawling out of the brush. Corpses littered the streets and the blond boy's heart thumped in his chest. "MOTHER!? FATHER!?"
Silence answered him and dread settled in his stomach. "N-no…no, no, no!"
Jaune ran as fast as he could, refusing to look at the burning corpses of people who once referred to his family as friends. The large plume of smoke coming from the highest hill in the village was where his home was, his family.
The boy reached his home, and outside of the burning house with a sword buried in his chest was the corpse of his father. He had died fighting; three bandits lay beside him as the hunter tried to defend his family, lip still curled in a final snarl of determination.
"F-father…" Jaune fell to his knees and began to weep. He hoped his father would stir even the slightest bit, longing to feel the safety and comfort that his family had provided. The blond boy reached out and tried to shake him awake but Nicholas did not stir, even when tiny fists rained down onto his chest. "Wake up!"
Nicholas did not move, his eyes staring blankly ahead.
Jaune's head lowered, and he let out an anguished wail as Oakvale burned. He was the only one left. Everyone else was dead.
Through the haze of smoke came forth an old man with white hair that was beginning to recede. He was dressed from head to toe in fine blue silk robes and strange blue markings covered his face. He approached the distraught boy and looked at him with a hint of pity in his old gaze. "Come. Quickly, before they return."
"No!" Jaune refused to leave his father's body, clutching onto it. "I-I can't leave him!"
"Oh for Avo's sake…" The old man rolled his eyes and grabbed ahold of the farm boy's arm. The next thing the blond knew he was spinning. Bile rose up in his throat and he vomited again. The stench of the burnt flesh still lingered in his nostrils along with the screams of people being slaughtered like animals.
Wobbling up, he went to throw a blind angry punch at the man who had dragged him away from what was left of his home only to be thrown back by an invisible barrier. He landed on his backside in a cloud of dirt, and he got to his feet, eyes burning with grief and fury.
"Save your anger for them," the old man snarled. "You may not realize it, but I just saved your life. There's nothing left for you in Oakvale. Nothing but bodies."
The farm boy cried, thick drops spilling from his eyes. It was real, every last bit of it. His mother and sister were gone. The idyllic village he called home was now nothing more than a smoking ruin.
The old man let him cry and his hard glare softened. He remained silent throughout, letting the blond boy get it out of his system.
Eventually, Jaune had run out of tears to shed. He looked around and saw he was in a completely different place. He wasn't in Oakvale anymore. In front of him was a large building that looked like a palace of some sorts. Lush gardens and clean rivers ran through the grounds, and he looked up at his savior. "W-who are you? Where am I?"
"My name is Maze, Master Wizard of the Heroes Guild," the old man introduced. "I've brought you to the Guild, the safest place in Albion. And your name, young lad?"
Jaune wiped away his tears and fixed his gaze onto Maze's. "Jaune…"
"Jaune…" Maze hummed thoughtfully. "I think we can work with you, young man. Come with me, and I'll introduce you to your new life."
Jaune plodded sadly behind the old mage and listened as best as he could as Maze gave him a brief history of the Heroes Guild. "The Guild has stood for many centuries, training the most gifted sons and daughters of Albion. Here, we teach those who have the power inside them, training their bodies and minds so they can defend Albion's shores from threats foreign and domestic. Not everyone makes it." Maze let out a sad sigh. "Many perish young, but those who succeed become legends. I believe you, Jaune of Oakvale, have that potential."
"W-why?" the blond boy rasped, following Maze through the woods towards the Heroes Guild. "I-I'm just a farm boy…"
"I can't explain it properly without seeming like a madman, but trust that I can sense your power. Your potential is far greater than some wandering sword for hire." Maze's tone left no room for argument and the blond fell silent, head lowered as he followed Maze into the building.
The main entrance to the Guild was barricaded by a tall stone wall and the old mage led him through the large courtyard, not giving the blond boy any time to take in the sights. "There will be plenty for you to explore tomorrow. The Guildmaster is unfortunately busy this evening, but he'll see you in the morning."
"M-morning…?"
"Why of course, boy. Did you really expect us to throw you to the hobbes?" Maze's brow furrowed and he pushed open a pair of heavy wooden doors leading inside. "We'll keep you safe here."
Jaune was silent. He didn't know what was going on anymore. All he knew was that he would never be able to forget the sight of his village burning. It had been permanently scorched into his mind.
The farm boy was led inside and up a set of stairs to the right. He didn't have time to properly look around, but he could see a large circular table with a map of Albion on it. Whatever it was, Maze didn't find it important enough to tell him and dragged him upstairs. "Come on. We don't have all bloody day."
The blond boy was led into a large room filled with bookshelves and beds. A few candles provided small sources of light and Jaune could make out a single shape underneath the covers on one of the beds.
"Here is where you will be resting," Maze announced. "I apologize for the lack of privacy, but this is the only room currently available. Don't let your roommate bother you too much." Maze glowered at the lump under the blankets. "Good night, Jaune of Oakvale. The Guildmaster and I shall see you in the morning."
Maze shut the door behind him, and once he left, Jaune slowly walked over to an empty bed and plopped down in it, trying hard to not sniffle as he pulled the blanket over his head. "F-father…"
He choked back a sob and he heard the other occupant's bed rustle. "H-hey. Are you awake?" It was another boy at least.
"Yeah," Jaune whispered back.
"Is it true?" A pair of pale red eyes filled with grief shone in the dim light. "Oakvale…is gone?"
"Yes…" Jaune answered softly, two fat tears rolling down his cheeks. "Bandits…"
The red eyed boy shook off the blanket and walked over to him. He had messy windswept black hair and looked to be maybe two years older than Jaune. "I was from Oakvale too and heard about it."
He shook, not from grief, but rage. "We'll get them back for it. When we're older. They won't be forgotten. Jaune, right?"
"Y-yes."
"I'm Qrow. Welcome to the Heroes Guild."
A/N: That is all for the first chapter. Oakvale's burned and Jaune makes a new friend. Don't worry, we'll see plenty of other RWBY characters in the near future. I hope you enjoyed.
-Kagerou#9718