Notice: Due to an awards ceremony that I have to organise, foot questions over and chair in September, I'm going to be taking the week starting Monday 12th – Sunday 18th September off. I'll be back Monday 19th.
Cover Art: GWBrex
Chapter 13
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Community figures ask, following Vacuo debacle, whether Jaune Arc should visit other kingdoms at all: "He's paid by our taxes so he should be helping us – not other kingdoms" says head of nationalist group Atlas First.
Atlas Times
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In it for the money? Experts weigh in on close ties between Arc and Schnee families
Vale Daily Tribune
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All eyes on Mistral to provide safe Vytal Festival after terrorist attack on Atlas delegation to Vacuo casts doubt on visit
The Mistral Review
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Vacuo Council blames White Fang for attack on Atlas diplomatic group: White Fang disavows attack – claims no involvement
Vacuo Today
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Arc blames White Fang for Vacuo attack
Kuo Kuana Express
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Jaune would not say it took two months for him to calm down from the close call in Vacuo; the reality was that he was swept up into more work at the hospitals, and forgot about it long before then, but it was two months now, he realised, and Jaune could hardly believe that it was that far in the past. There had been next to no news about the attack, or no news to him; perhaps Atlas had more and didn't want to bother him with it. The newspapers, or Vacuo more accurately, were claiming it was the White Fang, but Jaune didn't believe that and he didn't think General Ironwood did either. The woman they'd captured wasn't a faunus and none of them had worn masks. That didn't stop a lot of news sites that hated the White Fang, and there were plenty of those in Atlas, from running with the story and dragging the group over a bed of nails.
There were times he wondered if he should say, or do, something, but he was too busy and trying to balance too many things. Elm and Vine were working together now to offer him some training since General Ironwood still hadn't found him a tutor, despite having promised to have one ready in a few days. "It's proving more complicated than I thought," said Ironwood. "I'm sorry and can only assure you I'm working on it personally." Jaune had told him it was fine and left it at that, knowing the man was busy and not all that unhappy with the training he was receiving from Vine and Elm anyway.
His sixteenth birthday was approaching. Jaune watched the weeks go by without feeling the same excitement he would have back home. His parents had asked him if he wanted anything in particular, but what was he supposed to say? If he wanted something, all he needed to do was ask and he'd receive it. Peace? Time off? He'd probed Weiss on the latter, asking her if she wanted to go on a day trip to a spa together or something to relax, and she'd sounded excited about the idea, only to ask, "That will be after your work at the hospital, right?"
"Ah. Well." Jaune had scratched his head. "I was thinking I'd take a day off-"
"And let people die!?"
"I want to make the day special."
Weiss had relented then, her indignation melting into an embarrassed smile. She had stepped up and hugged him tightly. "You don't need to do that for me," she'd said. "I appreciate the thought, I really do, but I don't want to get between you and saving all those people. I'll come with you to the hospital and then we can go out together after."
He had agreed. What else could he do? Weiss had either missed the point or chosen to ride over it, but he couldn't very well tell her he wanted the day off work at the hospital after hearing that. They had gone on their date a week later, Jaune so exhausted that he fell asleep under the masseur's hands and waking up after to find he'd missed the whole thing. Far from be annoyed, Weiss said she'd let him rest because he looked like he needed it.
"You would too if your aura was being drained twice a day every day," snapped Jaune, without meaning to. Weiss had looked shocked. "I'm sorry," said Jaune. "I didn't mean- It's the stress. It's getting to me."
Weiss understood, or she claimed to, smiling it away and giving him a hug, thanking him for a wonderful date – at least it had been one for her, even if he'd missed it all – and kissed him chastely before leaving, at which point the Arc-Ops had come to take him back to the hospital for his afternoon resurrections. "How was your date?" asked Elm.
"Wasn't much of one…"
"You could have taken the day off. No one would have argued."
"Weiss would have."
"Then maybe you should put your foot down." Elm leaned forward as she said that, straining the seatbelt of their armoured vehicle. "A relationship goes both ways, you know. You shouldn't let her walk all over you."
"It's fine. I love Weiss."
"You can love a person while admitting their flaws," said Vine.
"I said it's fine. The newspapers will tear me apart if I stop anyway."
"They wouldn't if you said you needed time to recover." said Clover, over at the end of the APC. "People get used to things. If you keep working seven days a week without rest, they'll get used to the fact and balk when you want a single day off. Take regular time off and they'll get used to it."
They might, and his family would agree, and Dr Seng and General Ironwood would probably support him in it as well, but Weiss would be upset and might even blame herself. If she thought she was holding him back then she might even decide it was better to end their relationship. Jaune closed his eyes and pressed his head back, grunting to tell them the conversation was over. They let it go, and he was at the hospital not twenty minutes later, faking his smiles as dead bodies were wheeled in front of him.
It's always the same, thought Jaune. I wish things would change.
Two days later, he would take those words back.
/-/
The first Jaune knew of anything wrong was an alarm sounding across Atlas. It was low and urgent, and though he didn't know how to react to it everyone else did; he was ushered back to his family's rooms by Tortuga and locked inside with them. His parents looked worried and asked what was going on.
"It's a general alarm," said Tortuga. "Could be anything at all – no guarantee it's related to you. I'm just keeping you here for safety's sake."
Half an hour passed before the alarm went off, and the Arc family assumed that was the end of it. Ten minutes later, the door opened and Ironwood came storming in, his face drawn tight and flanked by Clover and Harriet. "Jaune!" His voice was as tense as he was, clipped and short. "Do you have much aura remaining?"
"About eighty per cent," said Jaune, after checking his scroll. He'd already done his morning hospital trip and was recuperating for his second, which was due to start in two hours' time. The only reason Ironwood could be asking him now was if something had happened. Something with a large death toll. "What's happened?"
"There's been a terrorist attack at the Schnee manor."
The blood drained from Jaune's face. "Weiss!"
"Is fine," interrupted Ironwood. "As is her brother; it was targeted at a board meeting, and they had nothing to do with that and were on the other side of the mansion. There are numerous dead – Schnee family members and members of the Board of Directors for the SDC. Twenty-two wounded as well, some critical, but it's the deceased that are the issue."
Jaune was on his feet. "I'll help."
They were out the home and rushing toward the airship docks without any wasted time. Jaune climbed onto a smaller aircraft and strapped himself in alongside the rest of the Arc-Ops, and then they were taking off at speed. He wanted to ask more, about who was responsible and when it happened, but everyone was so tense, and Ironwood was speaking into a device for the whole flight so Jaune didn't want to speak up and disturb him.
The airship landed on a stretch of lawn some forty minutes later, and Jaune was ushered off as the ramp descended. There were Atlas soldiers dotted all over the lawns, along with numerous people – staff, maids, workers, Weiss and Whitley. Jaune's eyes were drawn beyond them, to the Schnee manor, which was smoking terribly as a large chunk of the upper left wing had been blown away to reveal charred, blackened brick and gently smouldering flames. The smoke rising up from it was a horrible blackish colour. Jaune also noticed several soldiers standing tensely around two people, who were sat back to back with their hands tied to one another. They were dressed as SDC employees in the same maid uniforms he'd seen others in the manor using, but they had white masks hanging from string resting on their chests.
A soldier approached them and saluted General Ironwood. "Sir."
"Captain." said Ironwood, with a smaller salute of his own. "Have the wounded been accounted for?"
"Yes sir. Those requiring emergency care have already been shipping back to Atlas, including Councilman Jacques Schnee. I have had the deceased arranged as per your instructions. Away from here," he added, pointing to a nearby garage-like building. "I didn't think the other victims would want to see them."
"Good thinking, captain." Ironwood pressed a hand to Jaune's back. "Shall we?"
"Sir?" said the captain, the faint inflection of his voice making it clear he was uncertain. General Ironwood turned to face him and nodded for him to continue. "We were able to secure the body of the attacker. It's in a terrible state as you might imagine, but we weren't sure what your instructions would be. I've had him brought with the others but kept separate. I wasn't sure if… well." His eyes moved to Jaune and back. "I know it's unusual, sir, but bringing him back would let us interrogate him, and would also prevent him being martyred."
"I will consider it."
"Yes sir." The man saluted. "I will see to the fires."
Jaune waited for the man to go before asking, "Do you really want me to bring a terrorist back?"
"Not before innocent victims," said Ironwood, "Let us focus on those who deserve your assistance first."
The interior of the garage had been vacated of the numerous expensive sports cars, some of them old luxury vehicles, and bodies had been laid out under draped cloth. There was a smell not unlike burning meat, and Jaune's nose scrunched up. He'd brought back people in worse condition than this, literal mangled bodies from car crashes, and his father after he'd been torn open by a Grimm. It wouldn't be a problem but that didn't stop him gagging at the smell. General Ironwood offered him a handkerchief that he clamped over his nose and mouth.
"Keep the doors open," said Ironwood, to the Arc-Ops. "Get some air in here. How many-?" He counted. "-twelve, thirteen, fourteen. Fourteen victims. Jaune, do you have enough for that?"
"Yes." He had eighty per cent, which could account for some sixteen people. It was lucky that the method of death and the… state of the bodies… didn't cost him any additional aura. A life was a life, or so his Semblance seemed to say. "They haven't been dead too long. I can feel their-" He almost said spirits, but some people got very strange when he said that. "I can feel their aura lingering. It hasn't been four hours."
He went to work without being told, moving from one body to the next, keeping them under their cloths as he bathed them in white aura. His Semblance worked quickly, efficiently, and the victims came to with gasps and screams – many of them reliving their last moments and sitting up violently or throwing their arms up to shield themselves. Clover, Harriet and Tortuga worked quickly to explain to each of them what had happened and help them up and out the charnel house.
They looked to Jaune as they were led out, shock, awe and gratitude writ across their faces. Every single one of them knew they had been dead moments ago, and that they should by all rights have stayed dead. It took half an hour from start to finish. Jaune brought the last back – a Schnee family member, likely a distant cousin of Weiss' since he didn't recognise them. The man stumbled up, looked blearily at Jaune and sagged in relief. "And here I protested the package," said the man. "I must look the fool now. Thank you, young man. Thank you."
He was escorted out into the bright sun and fresh air. The smell had begun to fade now that there weren't any dead bodies. The worst part was that he could still see ash outlines on the floor from where they had gotten up; it looked like a crime scene with people's outlines painted in black. Only one remained, apart from the others and secured under a cloth.
"Shall I…?"
"It's your decision," said General Ironwood. "I don't want to force you to do this, and I cannot advise you one way or the other. This person is not innocent. Whatever their reasons and motives, they are a mass murderer. They are White Fang."
White Fang. Jaune had read and heard much about them, but this was his first actual interaction. They might have tried to blame them for Vacuo, but it simply hadn't been, and he'd honestly felt a little bad for them. Until now. The White Fang hated the SDC and the Schnee family, but to think they'd go this far was horrible. Weiss and Whitley could have easily been caught in this and killed.
"What will happen to him if I do?" asked Jaune.
"He will be arrested, interrogated and imprisoned." said Ironwood. He stepped around the body beneath the tarp and gently tapped the mask nearby away with his foot. "He'll be given a trial of course, but it won't be much of one with evidence like this. I expect he – or she – will serve a life sentence."
"Is that so different to death?"
"Some might say it is and others might say it isn't. I think it's for you to decide."
Jaune wished it wasn't. It would be so much easier to just have Ironwood tell him what to do; he understood this was a… not a kindness, but a measure of respect. Ironwood was saying that, as the one with the Semblance, Jaune should have his own choice on whether to use it or not. It was as pleasing as it was frustrating, and only because the moment was such a tense one. No one else asked him his opinion.
It was a binary choice at the end of the day. Resurrect or leave dead. Live or die. The person probably wanted to die, had probably gone into this accepting they would die, so they wouldn't thank him for bringing them back like everyone else. On the other hand, and like the captain had said, the man would become a martyr for the terrorists for this. Jaune wouldn't say the person was going to get away with his act, but he was obviously going to avoid any meaningful punishment through death. Did that give him the right to change that? Was it right to at all? Jaune didn't know, and so the question boiled down to one thing and one thing only: could he look himself in the mirror later and feel happy about having left someone dead? The answer was no. He would forever ask himself if he'd made the right decision and if he hadn't killed this person. And really, thought Jaune, if they want to die that badly then they can probably kill themselves a second time.
"I'll do it." He stepped forward. "Do you… Will you be ready to catch them if they run?"
General Ironwood stooped, lifted up the cloth in such a way that Jaune didn't have to see the body, then set it down again. "Captain Olive has already cuffed him just in case. Good man. I'll be here just in case. You're free to begin."
The familiar white light came along the tug on the last reserves of his aura. He had been low before, and now he was close to exhausted, but it had been enough. That was what counted. He'd not left anyone for dead. Jaune closed his eyes as the body stirred, reforming and rebuilding under the blanket until the cloth stirred and a voice groaned. General Ironwood tore the cloth back to reveal a faunus in a grey and white uniform. He, for it was a man, wolf-like grey ears, brown hair and a scar running under his left eye. His eyes were yellow and he looked about in shock.
"You are under arrest." said General Ironwood. "For the attempted murder of Jacques Schnee, the SDC Board and several other people."
"Attempted-? But I killed-" His eyes landed on Jaune. They widened. "No," whispered the faunus, shaking his head. "No, no, no."
"I'm afraid so. The victims of your mad actions have been brought to life. As have you."
"You monster."
The man wasn't talking to Ironwood when he said that. Jaune touched his hand to his own chest. "M-Me…?"
"You monster!" roared the faunus, lunging, but tripping as Ironwood wrestled him down. "You evil monster!" he screamed. "The White Fang won't forget this! They won't let this go! You've sided with the Schnee; sided with that whore of yours!" The faunus sprayed spit as he shouted, and Jaune took a step back. "You'll regret it, Arc! You and your whole family will regret this!"
"Jaune." said Ironwood, pressing a knee into the man's back. "Go. Wait outside. We shall handle this. Elm, go with him. Vine, help me secure this one."
"You'll regret this!" roared the faunus. "Traitor! Faunus-hater!"
Elm was there before Jaune could move, her huge arms covering him and then her body shielding him. She stepped forward, and when his feet failed him, she picked him up entirely and carried him outside, away from the raving faunus and into the sunlight once more. Elm didn't stop until they were a good hundred metres away, back with the other survivors who were crowding around, but still being guarded by the military. The other two captives, both White Fang, were looking at the resurrected people in anger, and that anger was quickly turned on him before they were forced up and away, shuttled into the aircraft as prisoners.
"Did I-?"
"Don't listen to a word someone like that says," said Elm. "He was a terrorist, Jaune, the worst of the worst. There are extremists among every demographic; I guarantee that ninety five out of a hundred faunus would be sickened by what he did today. Don't listen to those who shout the loudest, and don't ever think they talk for the majority."
"He chose to die. I brought him back."
"And a murderer chooses for their victim to die, but it doesn't mean we shouldn't stop them." Elm rubbed his head and pulled him in for a tight hug, all but squashing his face under her bosom. "Oh dear," teased the older woman, "If looks could kill then your girlfriend would be burying me alive right now."
Elm was exaggerating. Weiss had requested and been brought toward them but didn't look half as upset as Elm suggested. On seeing him, Weiss broke from her escort to fling herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and laying a clumsy and messy kiss upon his lips. Jaune staggered, unprepared for the sudden assault and knocked back into Elm, who supported them both and averted her eyes with an embarrassed grin.
"Thank you!" gasped Weiss when she finally released him. Her lips were bruised, her eyes red and tears stained her cheeks. She hugged him tight all the same. "I always knew you were a hero. You're incredible."
"I… Yeah…" Jaune hugged her back, unsure why he felt so uncomfortable with the words she was using. A hero would have stopped this, he couldn't help but think. All he'd done was show up after and fix the problem. But more than that, it felt like he was only a hero because his Semblance gave him an unfair advantage.
Weiss noticed his silence and looked up. "What's wrong?"
"Just tired. Low aura."
"Do you want to sleep in one-"
"Jaune will be returning to his family, Miss Schnee," said Elm in a firm, no-discussion, manner. "He's had a hard day and will be skipping his hospital visit this afternoon. No arguments," she told him when he made to protest. "Your aura is at fifteen per cent and won't recover until tomorrow."
"Fifteen." said Weiss. "Doesn't he normally go until ten? He can heal one-"
Elm's hands gripped Jaune's shoulders tightly. "The matter is closed, Miss Schnee. Drop it."
"I… Yes, I'm sorry." Weiss smiled awkwardly and released him, stepping back and rubbing her finger against her nose. "I'm not… This has…" Her laugh was brittle. "I don't think I'm in my right mind. Please excuse me."
"There's nothing to excuse, Miss Schnee. You've had a hard day. Spend time with your family."
"Yes." Weiss looked to him again and smiled. "Thank you, Jaune. Thank you. I'll never forget this. I love you."
"I love you too," said Jaune, automatically. He meant it.
But then, if he did, why was he so relieved when Weiss left?
/-/
The news of the attack on the Schnee manor made it out, as all news inevitably does, and the response was initially positive. Atlas had foiled a White Fang plot, setting them back and saving a serving member of the Atlas Council. It was the kind of patriotic and law-sided story that the people lapped up, and the news that every White Fang infiltrator had been arrested and would be tried only added to it.
And then the news came out that Jaune had missed his afternoon hospital appointment – and at first, they were concerned for him. Something had gone wrong or he was hurt, some claimed, and Atlas had to release a press release to announce that he had been instrumental in undoing the damage caused by the White Fang at the Schnee manor, and that he had drained his aura low doing so, leaving him unable to serve at the hospital that afternoon. A simple thing, Jaune had assumed, as he tucked in for bed that night. A simple thing indeed.
Until he woke the next day and attended the hospital in the morning to a huge crowd of people, protestors and reporters. One of them leaned over the metal railing to stick a microphone under his mouth and said, "Jaune Arc! Can you comment on claims that your relationship with Weiss Schnee secured her family preferential treatment above your waiting list?"
"Bwuh?" said Jaune, dumbly.
"Mr Arc! Mr Arc! Atlas Times." A woman elbowed her way forward. "Do you believe it fair that the rich and famous have access to your Semblance when the average person does not? What comment do you have?"
"I'm at the hospital twice a day, every day. I've never-"
"You dropped the hospital last night."
"I was out of aura. I couldn't heal anymore. General Ironwood said-"
"Are you saying General Ironwood and the Council ordered you to heal the Schnee board of directors?" The woman looked scandalised, but also excited, and cameras flashed wildly. "Mr Arc, were you given a choice in the matter, or were you taken out there without-"
Elm dragged him away swiftly, positioning her body between him and the reporters as he was shuttled into the hospital. They continued to shout questions after him, while the crowd waved signs and called out slogans. One that picked up traction as more voices joined the chorus was: "healing for everyone; not for the rich. Healing for everyone; not for the rich." The chant faded as the doors swished shut, and the beleaguered nurses and doctors within, who reminded him so much of those in Ansel at that moment, urged him to follow them.
"What's happening?" asked Jaune.
"Nothing you need worry about," said Clover, tightly. "There's been a mix-up in PR, or someone did a poor job anticipating the public's reaction." He smiled and said, "Don't take them too seriously. They're angry at the situation, not at you."
It didn't feel that way. Jaune worked silently, ignoring the pleas and thanks of the parents as he brought back children who had died in the night. They would gush and clamour for his attention, which he offered in tight smiles. They didn't notice. To be fair, they were too shocked and amazed at being alive again to realise that his heart wasn't in it. His aura drained from one hundred to ten by the last person, and he wobbled on his feet, unsteady for a moment as the last person was taken away. Jaune didn't need to ask to hear that the people protesting outside were still there. Their chanting could be faintly heard through the nearby window, even from two storeys up.
This is what happens when I miss a single session, thought Jaune. It wasn't as bad as Ansel, but that was a low bar to set. Maybe he should be grateful Atlas took such a long time to reach this level at all. Jaune looked to the Arc-Ops, silently asking for their advice. Clover sighed. "We need to get out to the APC and that means going past them. Dispersing the crowd will only make things worse."
"Would it help if I talked to them?" asked Jaune.
"I doubt it. Most people are fully committed by the time they protest, and not at all in the mood to listen to someone they're protesting against. They'd feel dumb otherwise."
The Arc-Ops took positions all around him, shielding him from every angle as they walked out the main doors of the hospital. The chanting picked up, along with the cameras, and the questions from reporters. It was loud and echoing in his ears, but at least they didn't breach the metal barriers or throw things at him. It was a peaceful protest. That was good.
"Mr Arc, will you be at the hospitals tomorrow?" shouted someone.
"Of course I will," he replied, loudly. "I'm at them every day. I've not had a single day off, not a single day to myself, and I leave completely exhausted." He fixed the stunned reporter with a tired glare. "Isn't that enough?"
Elm pushed him by, and there were no further questions as he mounted the APC and sat down, resting his head back against the seat. Vine offered him a can of soda, which he accepted with muttered thanks, cracked open and drank from. The feeling of your aura being low was not unlike having run a marathon. It was a sharp, burning feelings, and the fact he had to endure it twice a day every day meant that while he'd gotten used to the pain, he still felt constantly fatigued. Aura was the soul, they said, so he didn't just feel physically or mentally drained, but spiritually as well. Even Huntsmen didn't drain their aura so regularly.
"You shouldn't let them get to you," said Clover. "You can't please everyone."
"Are they right? Did I really sacrifice children to save the people at the SDC?"
"That logic is circular." said Vine. "There will always be people you could have saved, no matter who you do. You can't be everywhere and you can't heal everyone. You will destroy yourself if you try."
"We'll stop you before you do," added Elm. "It's our job – and you're too cute to let burn out."
The ride back to the docks, and the flight up from Mantle to Atlas, was peaceful. He always felt better, up in the sky, away from the public. There were students and military here, and while he had, on occasion, been asked to help people who had perished in training, it was an exceptionally rare occurrence. Only two deaths in the past four months, and both due to complete accidents rather than negligence. They weren't the same, and he appreciated that.
Jaune was escorted back to his family's quarters, where the girls were already out at their private schools and Amber was being home-schooled. He ate the lunch his mother prepared, excused himself and returned to his room, eager to ignore the news and pretend it didn't exist, but then reminding himself of what Weiss had said. Running away from it wouldn't stop those people coming back every day to protest; it was better to know what their issues were, so he could try and fix them.
The first headline had him snarling. It read: "The boy paid millions for two hours of work; Jaune Arc asks: "Isn't that enough?" There were hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of comments beneath it, and he just knew they weren't positive.
Placing his scroll down on his side, Jaune rolled onto his front and buried his face among his pillows. It would never be enough, not for them and not for people who had their loved ones die. He'd been a fool to think Atlas would be any different from Ansel. It was just run better, the narrative controlled, and he'd been kept away from all the people who would remind him of back home. He hated it. He hated the people; he hated the news stories; he hated the attention; he hated his Semblance; he hated his time at the hospitals.
But most of all, and guiltily, he hated the people who needed his help.
He despised them.
/-/
Jaune was different, Elm thought, when they went to the hospitals later that same afternoon. He was usually quiet, but not this quiet, and he was often reserved, but never this reserved. Where he kept his eyes down around the crowds before, he kept them up now, staring without defiance, without anger, and without much of anything at all, at the protestors. He didn't say a word, ignored their questions and walked steadfastly through the hospital doors. Elm shared a worried look with Clover, who signalled for her to keep a close eye on him.
The first cadaver was brought forward. A child, as was common practice still, and with her parents standing anxiously nearby. Jaune looked to them, a stark contrast from his usual method of just healing the person and moving on. "How did she die?" he asked.
Elm's eyebrows rose. Jaune never asked that – not because it might be rude (it was, but it was an understandable question) but because… well, because he normally just got straight to work without saying anything. The parents weren't aware of that however, and though they jumped at the sudden attention, they did answer.
"Carla was on a swing and jumped too far," said the mother. "I saw her, but couldn't catch her in time, and she landed on her neck. It was such a terrible sound."
"I see." Jaune looked away, and Elm wasn't sure if she imagined the way his lips thinned. "Keep a closer eye on your child in future – and teach her these things before she gets into trouble." White light shone, and the girl – Carla – drew breath again, her neck unbroken. The parents cried, promised the world and left with their daughter. The next were brought in, a boy this time, and a faunus. Jaune asked, "How did your son die?"
Elm wasn't sure what the change meant; what she was sure of was that she didn't like it.
Not unlike all those articles that say we're lazy and don't want to work, eh? I've lost count of the number of pieces I've read about how my generation doesn't want to put the effort in, even though stats show more and more of us are juggling second and third jobs to make ends meet.
I based the attack on the manor on the comment from Weiss in the first season about the White Fang killing members of her family, company directors and board members. I believe she said it to Blake while they were having their argument about the White Fang.
Next Chapter: 30th August
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