Jaune was not fit to be a Huntsman. He knew that. His family knew that. Everyone did. He didn't go to a combat school, unaware he needed to until it was too late. He didn't even have a fancy shotgun-mace-thing to fight with, just a simple hand-me-down sword to practice his swings. No hidden feature or transformation unless one counted the sheath-shield.

But while he wasn't legally or academically qualified for a Huntsman academy like Beacon, he was most certainly physically qualified. Case in point as he barrelled down the empty streets of Ansel in the dead of night, his footsteps ringing out like the criminal he'd just become and the dead man he might be if he stopped.

Jaune grabbed a nearby pole and used it to carry his momentum around the corner, not breaking his stride for anything. He heard no sounds of pursuit, but it did little to comfort him after what he just saw. Seeing that he was on a long stretch of road to his destination, Jaune pushed his bruising hand into his pocket and withdrew his scroll. It took a few tries to unlock it, but once he did, he slammed his thumb against a recently added number and put the scroll on speaker. All of this he did, panting as he ran.

After a few rings, a male voice came through. "I knew you said you'd be late, kid, but this is pushing it."

"Sorry! Sorry," Jaune said in between breaths, "but it took longer than I thought. Look, just get the engines warmed up and ready to fly."

"You okay, kid? Sound a bit out of breath."

"I'm running over there now. Look, I'll be there in ten. Just start the ship." Jaune hung up and shoved the scroll back in his pocket. With his free hand, he adjusted the shifting duffel bag slung over his shoulder, moving it so it didn't hinder his movements.

His lungs burned as he pushed on, screaming for him to stop, but he couldn't. After what he just did, Jaune didn't think he could even force himself to stop running. It took a lot of willpower and a healthy dose of fear to not look back, but he was almost home free.

The moment he passed the last building on the street, Jaune could see the lights of the airport runways in the distance. With his goal in sight, a second wind surged through him and he pushed his way to the fence. Upon reaching it, Jaune unslung his bag and tossed it across, landing it with a muffled thump in the grass. He jumped next, grabbing as high as he could into the chain link fence.

"If I get out of here, I'm never complaining about basic training again," Jaune muttered as he climbed, the wires digging into his skin. Gripping the top bar, he gave one last heave and pulled himself up and over, landing on the grass with as much grace as his bag did. "Ugh, I still don't get how they stick the landings. Freaking cats, all of them." Pushing himself off the ground, Jaune grabbed his duffel and kept running.

As he approached the hangar, he could hear the sound of Dust engines rumbling, and though his legs were screaming at him to stop, Jaune pushed a little bit harder for the home stretch. When he entered the hangar, Jaune could see the pilot in the cockpit and the side door of the transport open. Freedom in sight! Jaune scrambled over to the door and ignored the stairs in favor of leaping in head first.

"I'm in!" he shouted up at the cockpit, banging his fist on the floor in case he couldn't be heard over the engines. But he was, if the door closing was any indication. The second it locked shut, Jaune could feel the ship rumble as it moved, and a minute later he could feel the pressure of take off.

He could also feel his stomach grumble its displeasure at the whole sensation.

Jaune groaned and dug into his bag to pull out a small bag of air-sickness pills. It felt surprisingly light, and he soon saw why. "Crap, I forgot to buy more. I'll need to get some in Vale." He popped the last in his mouth and crawled over to a small fold-out seat in the wall. It took longer than it should have to sit down, partly due to his muscles slowly responding in pain, the rest from attempting to not upset his stomach, but once he buckled in, Jaune let out a long sigh of relief.

This was it. He was going to Beacon. He would become a huntsman and live up to the family legacy. No more looks of disappointment. No more "you're fine as you are" sentiments. He was going to make something of himself. After all, what else was he going to use all that basic training for? Carrying boxes off and onto ships? Being a harbor master was not in his destiny, if the family books were any indication.

Jaune pulled his duffel bag closer and grabbed the new sword hilt sticking out of the main pocket. Pulling it out of his bag, he winced upon seeing a large, shallow dent in the sheath. "Damn, I must've hit harder than I thought. Or vampires aren't as strong as people say they are." Jaune shuddered as he recalled the blood-red eyes and sharp fangs standing so close behind him. He then gently pulled his new sword out of the scabbard.

It was an arming sword, just like the hand-me-down he was given, Crocea Mors, but it looked like someone dyed the blade black with a red tint towards the tip and gilded the cross guard with turquoise gems. The blade itself was a bit narrower towards the tip than Crocea Mors, giving the blade an almost elegant look. To be frank, it looked like an art piece out of some historical fantasy, but Jaune had tested the blade before he had to run. He barely had to touch it before it drew blood.

There was no name for it, at least none that Jaune could find in the old family books, but it existed since his great great grandfather's time. According to the books, it was once a Duke's sword, gifted to his ancestors around the Great War.

"But why were you in the basement and not over the fireplace?" Jaune muttered to himself as he turned the sword around in his palm. A small part of him worried about leaving the vampire he encountered back in the basement with his family, but another reassured him that if the vampire was there before then perhaps it could not leave. It certainly didn't try to follow him.

However, as much as he wanted to ponder the mystery, he could feel the fatigue settling into his muscles, and his eyelids were getting harder to keep open. Putting the sword back into the sheath, he set his weapon back into his bag next to the wrapped broken pieces of Crocea Mors and then settled in as best he could to get some shut-eye.

It was barely the afternoon since he left, and Jaune was about to do something stupid. Illegal stupid. But it was his best chance at getting into Beacon, so it wasn't that stupid. Just illegal.

At least, that's what Jaune reassured himself with as he walked the streets of downtown Vale. Surprisingly, the downtown area was pretty clean, not at all like the dingy, crime-ridden city underbelly his comics had led him to believe. Oh, there were still quite a few sketchy people about, but they were mostly hobos and drunks shuffling between the alleys. A few times, Jaune had to recheck his scroll to make sure he was in the right place, but the message he received stayed the same.

"Go to The Den. Ask for Junior. Order a 'Fudge Sundae Special'. Bring cash."

He had only stopped earlier in the morning for a few cups of coffee and a big breakfast so greasy, it'd make certain maids faint at the thought of the stains, but eventually Jaune arrived. And with a few hours to spare, no less. Not bad considering his legs still felt a bit wobbly after last night's sprint.

Jaune looked down at his scroll once more and then back up at the building across the street. "There it is." He took a deep breath. "Go in. Get the forgeries. Get out. Little bit of confidence. Don't do anything stupid. Yeah, I got this." Pep talk in mind, Jaune crossed the empty street and entered the club.

The door swung shut as Jaune balked at the heavily damaged interior of the club. Jaune had heard of bar fights, but really it looked more like a cluster of bombs went off in here the more he surveyed the damage. Were bar fights held to a higher standard of destruction in the kingdom proper?

"Outta the way, kid." Jaune snapped back to reality and jumped aside as a pair of well-dressed goons lugged a large debris container past him. They were hardly the only ones either. Almost a dozen other men like them were scattered about the place cleaning up broken bits of glass and replacing broken electronics. More than a few looked at Jaune funny, and Jaune could see a couple fingering the axes at their belts, but they stayed in their spots with dustbins in hand. Aside from them, Jaune could see no other people except for a pair of girls sitting at the bar area, unsurprising given that it was too early for partying.

'Don't stop. Little bit of confidence,' he repeated in his mind as he walked down the stairs and headed for the bar, sidestepping a few piles of debris.

As he got closer, he could see the girls had their backs towards him, but they were dressed in almost mirror image, except for color. Thigh high boots, lacy dresses that barely went up or down their bodies, and puffy fur scarves. The red girl had a short bob cut while the white girl had hair flowing past her shoulders.

Jaune cleared his throat. "Excuse me. Do you know where I can find Junior?"

The girls turned around, and Jaune could see why they wore matching clothes. They were twins. Smokingly beautiful twins who were now eyeing him up and down. Jaune couldn't tell if they were assessing him as a threat or if he was a piece of meat. It felt vaguely familiar, but Jaune couldn't place the feeling.

"Someone's certainly bold," the red one said.

"Yeah, who walks into a criminal den in broad daylight?" the white one replied.

"I meant more about wearing a hoodie under metal armor, but that's a fair point too."

Jaune glanced down at his clothes. The colors didn't clash and it was certainly more comfortable than wearing the armor directly. He shrugged. "Feels fine to me."

"Well, if you're ever uncomfortable, feel free to take it off," the red one suggested with a salacious smirk.

Jaune felt blood rise to his cheeks, though some of it went a bit south. And here, Jaune thought he would be immune to this with all the girls he grew up around. At least he was able to keep eye contact and not look at her bosom while she laughed at his misfortune. Okay, he peeked once. Not bad.

The girl in white was less amused by it, rolling her eyes. "You don't even know his name and you're already trying to get into his pants. How classy."

The red sister stopped laughing and swatted at her. "I was getting to that. Don't be such a bitch because you can't get any with your high standards." Her smile returned. "Sorry about that. Melanie can be a real prude sometimes. I'm Miltia, by the way." The vague familiar feeling grew a bit stronger. Had he seen them before?

"Jaune. Jaune Arc." He tried to give his best smile, but it was hard to do as he was trying to suppress his current blushing and keep his eyes above her chin.

"So what brings you here, Jaune?" Melanie asked. "You don't look like the usual junkies that wander in." She sniffed the air. "Definitely don't smell like one either."

"I would hope not," Miltia said. "Smokers make for terrible kissers." She puckered her lips and winked at Jaune.

"I-I'm just here to order something from Junior, that's all," Jaune said, his blush rising once more. "Is he around?"

The twins exchanged glances, and Melanie spoke first, "Junior's a bit... indisposed right now. He's nursing a bit of a hangover."

"And no offense," Miltia said, "but he's not really keen on talking to blondes right now." Her eyes shifted off to the side of him. "The last one was a bit rowdy."

Jaune looked around the room once more. A stage light stand keeled over somewhere. "Oh."

"Mmmhmm."

"This isn't a usual thing for you, is it?"

Militia shook her head. "We don't usually get blonde bimbo wannabe-huntresses. I doubt we'd last long if we did."

"So while Junior's out," Melanie said, "It looks like it's up to us to service you."

Miltia giggled. "Oh, I'm sure he'd love that."

"Could you keep your mind out of the gutter for five minutes, Miltia?" Melanie huffed.

"I could, but I'm afraid of losing all my color and being dull like you."

"Oh, you bitch!"

"Ha! Call me something new!"

Jaune quickly stepped in. "Hey, there's no need to fig-" But the twins were not jumping at each other's throats, rather they stared at Jaune with amused looks. He sighed. "How do you two function as sisters?" There was that feeling once more, it felt like the answer was closer now, on the edge of his memory.

"We're twins," they said in unison. Miltia's eyes sparkled with mirth and passion while Melanie's held a cold amusement.

A memory finally clicked in with the feeling. Before Jaune could give a second thought, he blurted out. "Are you two fox faunuses by any chance?" Great. Way to sound like a racist if they were.

Thankfully, the question didn't bother the girls so much as surprise them. They shared a bemused look between each other before looking back at Jaune.

"What an oddly specific question," Melanie said. "But no, we're not."

"Ooh, do you have a thing for pretty fox girls?" Miltia asked. "Is it the ears or the tails? Asking for future reference."

Jaune quickly waved his arms. "No. No, I didn't mean it like that. You two just reminded me of an old fairy tale my aunt told me." He shook his head. "Nevermind, forget I said anything. Can I just make my order?" 'And get out before I say something really stupid.'

But it was too late. Jaune could see the twin's expressions spark with interest and curiosity. 'Me and my big mouth.'

"I dunno," Miltia said, sliding off her barstool. "I'm a little distracted right now. I might forget. Melanie, can you take his order?"

"I could." Melanie stood up as well.

'Please.'

Miltia rolled her eyes. "Will you take it?"

Melanie's eyes must have seen the pleading look on his face, because her smile turned mischievous. "Not until I hear this story of his."

'Damn it.' Jaune sighed. He should have known it was futile. Sisters always seemed to gang up on him for their amusement, regardless of blood relation. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

"It's not every day you hear stories about yourself," Miltia said, taking one of Jaune's arms and leading him to a back door.

"You're probably going to have to wait anyways when we take your order, so you might as well entertain us in the meantime," Melanie said as she followed close behind.

Not even a day away from home and Jaune already felt like he never left.

"I'm going to keelhaul that boy over every ship in port!"

No one in the room dared to disagree with North Carolina, not when they could all see the vampire-esque Duke of York laying on the couch with an ice pack on the side of her head. One of the Royal Maid girls had happened across her as Duke had not been in her usual quarters, and thus went looking for her. But it was past morning now and far too late. Jaune was missing, as was both his training sword, travel bag, and now Duke's sword.

"I can't believe he did this!" Carolina said as she angrily paced around the room. "Oh, he is going to be so grounded when I find him!"

Duke waved a free hand. "Thou shouldn't be so hard on the boy. Twas I who loomed over him like a grimm spectre, intent on frightening him. Thus, it was my folly to not account for his quick reflex to possible danger." She chuckled. "Were it not for mine own, I dare say he might have taken my head. A pity I was not quick enough to avoid this headache."

"At least something came out of his training," Sheffield said as she replaced the ice pack with a fresh one. "Shame that he didn't pick up some sense."

"But why?" Carolina asked the room, her visage turned from angry to worried. "Why would he leave like this? Was it something I said? Was it something I did?" Her fingers fretfully wrung through her golden locks. "Why now, of all times?"

"It's not your fault, ma'am," Suffolk said, standing off to the side. "None of us expected this." She took Carolina by the arm and led her to one of the chairs. "We should have kept a better eye on him."

"No, no, it is my fault," Carolina said as she sat down. "I should've seen it. He was getting restless and I took it for enthusiasm in his training. I hoped he would've grown out of that Huntsman business nonsense, but I must've encouraged it by mistake. I should never have gotten him that sword."

Huntsman this, huntsman that. It was all Jaune talked about the past few years, now that she thought about it. And then he must've mistook his training for their acceptance of it. Foolishness. Both on him and her. Good Lord, she could use a good distraction right about now.

Thankfully, one came as the door opened to reveal Samuel Arc, a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair cut short and neat. His green eyes spoke of experience, but were strong like an officer. He wore a blue sailor's uniform but it clung to him a bit haphazardly, parts soaked in sweat from running around town. Out of breath, his eyes locked onto Carolina first before meeting the others.

"Alright, I've got good news and bad news," he said. "Good news is, we know which way he went."

Carolina shot out of her seat, a wild look in her eyes. "Where did he go?" Her body was coiled, ready to spring out the door with a heading, but Samuel placed his hands on her shoulders and firmly gripped her.

"Carol, listen to me," he said soothingly, "You can't go rushing off after him."

Carolina flinched as if struck, and then scowled. "And why the hell not?"

"Because the bad news is, he went by air, not sea. There's a good chance he's probably already landed and moved on elsewhere."

Carolina cursed up a storm that would make a sailor blush. She only stopped and spun around to glare at the laughing Duke of York. "What's so funny?"

"Dearest Carolina, thou truly underestimates thine child-rearing capabilities. Young Jaune has certainly proven he has potential if he was able to fool and escape thee. Aside from mine intervention, he planned his escape well if none of us took notice. I dare say he might make a fine Huntsman."

"But he's not supposed to!" Carolina stamped her foot. "He's supposed to stay here with us! You know that."

Samuel cleared his throat. "Carol-"

Carolina spun back around. "Don't you take her side too!"

Samuel shook his head. "I'm just as worried as you are about him."

"I'm sensing a 'but' here."

"But this may be a good experience for Jaune. The chances of him getting into an Academy are slim without transcripts and he doesn't have the experience to pass the entry exam, even if he went to Vacuo."

"What are you getting at? That we should just let him gallivant off, pretending to be a Huntsman?"

"I'm saying that this is a chance for Jaune to spread his wings, and when he falls, we will be there to support him. He's not a little boy anymore. He's a young adult who can make his own mistakes."

Carolina sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "You're right. I've coddled Jaune too much and now he wants out." It felt like it was only yesterday that she could carry Jaune in her arms. "You know, you still didn't tell me where he went."

Samuel raised an eyebrow. "If I tell you, you're going to run off after him."

Damn it, how does he do that? Carolina pouted and poked his chest. "Fine, but if he doesn't call back by tomorrow, I'm sending out some of the girls to search for him."

Samuel chuckled. "Give Jaune a little credit. I'm sure it'd take much longer for him to do something reckless."

It was official. Jaune was in the deep end and no amount of swimming was going to save him from the two sharks staring down at him.

The brown-and-pink colored shark sat on his chest like he was a fresh catch while the taller, bowler hat wearing shark looked at him like he was a pile of money.

"So, kid," the man said, puffing on his cigar, "I hear you're looking for a forgery."