I'm back. Thank god. I'm just looking forward to nice and normal weeks spent writing and not having to worry about public speaking.
Cover Art: GWBrex
Chapter 15
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Hospitals face complaints at Arc leave of absence to Mistral: "Who will be here to protect our babies?" asks impassioned mother.
Atlas Times
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Vale delegation to Mistral expected to meet with runaway Jaune Arc. Will he return home at last?
Vale Daily Tribune
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Mistral council assures all steps taken to ensure successful Vytal Festival
The Mistral Review
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Arrests made in Crown Case, as two former huntsmen brought up on charges of terrorism, human trafficking, and conspiracy against the kingdom.
Vacuo Today
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BREAKING: Sienna Khan declares Jaune Arc ENEMY of White Fang.
Kuo Kuana Express
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Being both a General in the army and the headmaster of Atlas Academy didn't leave much in the way of free time for General Ironwood, and less so when he was also moonlighting as a two-seat holding councilman and dealing with the upcoming trip to Mistral for the Vytal Festival. There were teams to approve, accommodations to sort out, substitute teachers to arrange to cover for those going to Mistral, and then there was the whole song and dance with Jaune's protection detail which, after the debacle in Vacuo, had to go perfectly this time around. To say he was locked in meetings day and night was no exaggeration, and it was with no small amount of relief that he ended the call on his latest, leaned back and let out a long and heavy sigh.
Which was right about the time his secretary paged him. "General Ironwood. Winter Schnee is here to see you. Shall I tell her you're busy?"
Thank the heavens for competent secretaries; he had been served by many, but his current was by far the best at gauging his mood and doing her best – subtly – to help out. He'd have taken her kindness at any other time. "No, Samantha, I need to speak with her. Send her on through but stonewall anything else that isn't literally the end of the world."
"Understood, sir."
The door swished open, and Winter Schnee snapped a picture-perfect salute. He'd been cautious of her at first; it wasn't that he believed Jacques would willingly lose an heiress for a high rank in the military, but he had worried she might have a silver spoon in her mouth and expect things to be handed to her. She had at first, he had to admit, but Winter had adapted admirably and into a fine soldier. "At ease, lieutenant. Take a seat."
"Sir." Winter dropped her salute but walked no less formally to her seat, drew it back and sat with a straight back and her gloved hands on her thighs. "You summoned me, sir. How can I help?"
"It's been almost two months since you started working with Jaune Arc," said James, getting straight to the point of the matter. He noticed her shoulders stiffen and did his best to ease them with a smile. "I've not had any complaints from him in that time. I'd like to ask your opinion of him."
"Jaune Arc is a very adept and focused student," said Winter. "He pays attention, learns quickly and isn't afraid to keep trying something if he gets it wrong the first few times. He takes his training very seriously and I have no complaints to offer on my end."
James hummed and crossed his hands over his desk, one hand over the other with his cybernetic on the bottom. "That's not quite what I meant, Winter. I'm asking you what you think of him as a person."
"Sir?"
"Jaune Arc, the young man you are training. What do you think of him?"
"What is there to think, sir?" asked Winter. "He's a hero."
An immediate response, and one he believed all the more for it, but certainly not what he'd been looking for. He'd thought two months might be enough for her to be able to see something he had not, but it looked like Winter might have been a little starstruck herself. Or, if not that, then she was going with the same response most people had about him. He didn't think Jaune would be happy if he heard her thoughts there.
"He has done great things for Atlas, I agree," said James, "but I'm asking more about his personality and how he seems to you. Does he seem happy? Is he content? Have you noticed anything concerning?"
"I…" Winter cut herself off immediately. "No, sir, it's nothing."
"Winter Schnee, I would not summon you here and ask your thoughts if I wanted you to censor them. Finish what you were about to say." He made it a command, using his drill sergeant voice, and Winter responded instinctively, sitting straight and rattling off an answer in a rush.
"He reminds me of myself at his age, sir!"
James nodded. "Better. Explain your words."
"It's… I was…" There was a pregnant pause as Winter closed her eyes, collected herself and reformed her words into proper sentence structure. "Before I joined the military, I felt smothered by my father and his endless demands for how I should be, how I should act and what was to be expected of me. I chafed at the pressure and sought any escape from it I could, until it eventually grew too much, and I gave it up to join the army. I see many of the same signs in him that I can recognise now were in myself."
He couldn't say it was what he wanted to hear, and yet James was sure he needed to hear it all the same. Worse still, it was no different than the concerns Elm Ederne had privately confided in him. "What signs are those?"
"He is clearly frustrated and impatient. He throws himself into his training with me as though he is using it to forget something else. He doesn't smile, or if he does it's only after I've knocked him down several times. He is… He is reckless at times." Winter frowned. "There are times he charges me so wildly that it would cost him his life if I were a Grimm."
"Suicidal?"
"I'd not go that far, sir!" protested Winter. More like she was afraid to be the one to suggest it. "I just… I remember railing against my father in similar ways; making mistakes on purpose and trying to get myself punished. I wanted to make him angry."
"To tug at the reins and exert some measure of control over your life?"
Winter looked more than a little tortured right then and there to have to remember it all, but she nodded her head. "Yes sir."
In truth, he could understand why Jaune might want to do all of that. He thought he might if their situations were reversed. The problem was that knowing about the problem didn't give him any means of solving it, not when there were pressures far beyond Ironwood at work. The Council, the people – the whole city itself – would not accept Jaune Arc doing anything but what he was paid for. He didn't have the power, nor the authority, to take Jaune off his rota and give him time to rest.
This will be a disaster if he makes the same decision as Winter and leaves us, thought James. He wouldn't begrudge Jaune having the right to make his own decisions, but it would start another bidding war to try and win him over, and he was going to face the same whatever kingdom he chose. Oh, they might try and promise him laxer conditions or more freedoms, but their tune would change once they had him. Then there was his security to consider in the face of criminal elements, the White Fang and even Salem. Jaune was safest in Atlas. Evidently, safety did not equate with happiness.
"Sir?" asked Winter cautiously. "Is there something else I can help you with?"
Translation: this conversation was awkward for her, and she wanted out of it as soon as humanly possible. Ironwood sighed and changed the subject. "The Vytal Festival is coming up soon and Jaune will be coming to Mistral with us."
"Is that wise after what happened in Vacuo, sir?"
"No. It's not. Sadly, the visit was agreed upon before Vacuo, and we can't back out now without burning a lot of bridges." And privately, he hoped that time away from Atlas might ease Jaune's burden a little. He was doubtful, but a man could hope. "For an event as important as this, we can't afford to be seen as hoarding him. That means our security will need to be at its best. I want you there along with the Arc-Ops acting officially as Jaune's private tutor, but unofficially as an extra bodyguard. You will be under Captain Ebi's command. Do you accept?"
"Y-Yes, sir! Of course."
Winter saluted quickly, and with more than a little excitement. He knew she'd been trying out for the rank of Specialist, which was something you couldn't apply for. It was invitation only or, more typically, nomination only. Those who excelled might finds themselves nominated by the superior officers and tested.
This wasn't that, but a chance to serve under a ranking Specialist Officer would open a lot of doors for her, and there was also the chance she might impress Clover enough for him to extend an opportunity. Ironwood let her have her moment; if she caught Clover's eye, then he would approve the transfer himself, but for now it was a convenient excuse to have yet more eyes on Jaune. It would help that Winter's sister would be going as well. Another convenient excuse.
"Good. You'll receive an itinerary to your official scroll. You are free to inform Jaune if you wish, and to inform your family, but I will ask you to keep anything Captain Ebi tells you in strictest confidence."
"Of course, sir. I wouldn't dream of doing otherwise."
Ironwood nodded. "Very well. You're dismissed, Lieutenant."
General Ironwood kept his pleasant smile until Winter left, and the door swished shut. Only then did he let it fall, and his forehead to press against the cool metal of his palm. It was no better or worse than he had expected, but he had hoped – naively, perhaps – that time training with Winter might solve all of Jaune's problems. It clearly hadn't, instead becoming a method of escape or a bad habit he was using to cope. He still hadn't visited Dr Seng, and James was caught between wanting to force him to go to a therapy session and not wanting to become yet another person Jaune felt he couldn't trust.
"I'm not the right person for this, I can't balance being a general, a councilmember, a headmaster and a confidante to a young boy with too much on his shoulders." It was just too many hats to wear at one time. "Why do I have the feeling this will be the straw that breaks the camel's back?"
/-/
Jaune closed his eyes on the long-haul flight and listened to Weiss excitedly talking about the last time she'd been in Mistral. She was animated, her voice rising and falling in pitch as she remembered wonderful cuisine and incredible sights, and he found a rare solace in just hearing her act like a normal girl for a chance. It was nice to have her talk about something that wasn't him, her, them, their future and all the things they could accomplish together. There was no talk of what they should do or would do, or how he should be using his Semblance more, just Weiss acting her age as she described the exotic fashions and styles.
"Are you listening to me!?"
"Of course." Jaune opened his eyes to look at her; she looked annoyed, her cheeks puffed out and her eyes narrowed. It was cute rather than upsetting. "You were talking about the gardens and how the seasons are represented with the colours of the trees and flowers."
Weiss' shoulders relaxed and she let him off. "Yes. I thought you were falling asleep."
"I was just imagining it as you were describing it. The gardens sound amazing. I hope we can go visit them."
Her smile was back full force, and Jaune felt his chest swell. It was strange how he could alternate between loving her so much and dreading being around her. He never knew if she was going to be the excitable girl he had a crush on or the ambitious and professional young woman that felt like every other controlling influence in his life. He thanked his lucky stars the Vytal Festival had captured her imagination and given him the former.
"I'm sure they'll let us if we bother them enough. They'll probably want to take photos of us and make it a PR thing, but they'll let us go."
"I'd rather it be just the two of us."
Weiss blushed, glancing away. Her dainty hand brushed against his. "I-I would too," she stammered. "But you know that'll never happen. Not after what nearly happened to you in Vacuo."
"I know. I know. I can dream."
"There's a talk show you're expected to star in, isn't there?"
Jaune cringed internally and externally at both the reminder, and at Weiss sliding back into topics he really didn't want to talk about. She was his girlfriend – and while it felt wrong to say he expected her to act a certain way, he kind of did expect their time together to be more fun than business. "I'd rather not talk about that, Weiss."
She smiled. "Stage fright?"
No, just utter disinterest and a gnawing sense of apathy that he really didn't want to attribute to time spend with someone he was supposed to be in love with. And I am in love with her, thought Jaune. I am. I still feel excited to be around her, so I must be.
"I'm more interested in the fights," said Jaune. It was a safe and easy topic, especially since he knew Weiss wanted to be a huntress. As he expected, her eyes lit up and she instantly dove into a conversation about some of the representatives from Atlas, and which she thought would do well. It was something he could get into as well, and thankfully she didn't bring up hospitals, his semblance or any of the other PR duties he'd be expected to go through.
Weiss grew sleepy after that, and after a meal, and nodded off with her head on his shoulder. Her white hair flowed down over his arm and to his fingers, wonderfully soft and maintained. He adjusted his posture slightly to let her sleep more comfortably against him, and to block out Elm, who he could tell was trying to snap a photo to share with his sisters later. It also let him look out the window and blocked anyone from noticing his complicated expression.
There were times he wasn't sure what he felt anymore. There were moments like this with Weiss where he felt so alive and in love – as excited and in awe of her as he had been when she sang on that stage. Then there were moments like at the hospital where she was looking at him in awe, and he couldn't stand her. Moments where she would talk about all the good he was doing and could do, and when he wanted nothing more than to close himself off or walk away from her. If it were just one or the other then things would be easier, but the constant back and forth, dependent on Weiss' mood or the topic of the conversation, had him constantly on edge.
Maybe it was normal. Couples fought and argued all the time. Maybe this was just part of being in a normal relationship, and he was expecting more because he'd never been in one before. It can't be sunshine and rainbows all the time, thought Jaune. There had to be periods where people disagreed, and maybe he was just getting to experience that. It was either that or there were two different Weiss, and he was in love with one of them and hated the other.
The Weiss that had let her guard down and was sleeping on his shoulder was one he wanted to keep, and Jaune brought his right hand up and around her back to gently touch her hair and stroke it. Her lips parted and she mumbled in her sleep, unconsciously snuggling into him. He felt happy, fulfilled, but it was impossible not to feel a little awkward at enjoying his girlfriend more when she was asleep and quiet than awake and talking to him.
Maybe I should ask dad for advice, but then he'd know something was up. Anyone he went to would, and they all had their own vested interests. A normal person could go up to someone for advice and no one would really care, but his private moments were the hottest gossip. A single harsh word to or about Weiss would blow up online and in the media, and Weiss would be heartbroken that he'd not talked to her first. Hell, she'd be right to feel cheated in that situation.
"Can't we just stay like this?" he asked her. "Me, you, no one else and no semblance in our way?"
Weiss didn't answer.
And Jaune had a feeling he didn't want to hear what her answer would be.
/-/
Different country; same shit.
There was a huge welcoming procession for him when his aircraft landed, with people in rows and a cheering crowd beyond a metal barricade; there was a band playing the national anthem of Mistral, and several important politicians arrayed halfway down a wide, red carpet that had been set up and rolled out at the bottom of the ramp. TV crews filmed, cameras flashed, and the excitement rose to a fever pitch as Jaune stepped down onto Mistral soil for the first time.
Jaune tuned himself out from almost all of it. He smiled and waved, and walked forward with General Ironwood, and he shook hands and pretended to listen to the people who introduced themselves. It had been decided that Weiss should not accompany him for the meet and greet lest there be yet more rumours of favouritism for the Schnee family. She, with the others, would slip off the aircraft after the excitement had dwindled, and once he and the majority of the people were gone.
The lights of the cameras blinded him as he and the officials posed for photographs, and then he was being led down between rows of cheering people, many of whom strained to reach out and touch him. Jaune's hand rose and fell mechanically, his smile never once falling nor reaching his eyes. At least they hadn't ambushed him with dead bodies like in Vacuo. Small mercies there.
"I'll be happy to do rounds at the hospitals," said Jaune when the word was brought up. "But have you spoken to Atlas' medical teams about my limitations?"
They assured him they had, and that he'd be healing no more than his aura could manage, and that the Arc-Ops would, of course, be welcome to attend him and offer their own brand of protection, even if the overweight official speaking assured him that Mistral had that well and truly in hand.
"Our kingdom is not so lawless that we would allow any harm to come to a guest. I guarantee that personally."
"I'm glad to hear it," said Jaune. "I feel safer already. What's the itinerary for today?"
He didn't listen, and only asked to get them talking so he could close off and try to let the time pass by. It wasn't like he needed to remember what they had planned for him, as they would be the ones to drag him about. He'd seen it briefly in Ironwood's office anyway, and it was par for the course – which was to say every single minute of his day was planned and utilised, with only eight hours rest in the evening. They had even planned out his every meal, including what he would eat, where, when and who would be seated next to him at any given time. It wasn't even going to be Weiss for most of them. Mistral had apparently run something of a charity raffle for the honour, and there was no way he could argue with a charity.
"It will be a week yet until the Vytal Festival," one of the councilmen told them both. "You will have VIP boxes for that obviously. You can sit with the other headmasters or with Mr Arc if you wish, General Ironwood."
"I will play it by ear, thank you. Jaune has been looking forward to seeing the festival."
It wasn't entirely a lie; the promise of long hours of fights was both exciting and a promised opportunity to rest and relax. They couldn't well have him running ragged around hospitals if they wanted him to be seen spectating, and the Vytal Festival was a huge deal. It might even be a bigger deal than him, which would mean a welcome break from all the news stories and gossip to his detriment.
The tour lasted for another half hour and seemed to be more about him being seen than him seeing Mistral. It ended with Jaune brought up onto a stage before many cameras and, with a small ceremony, being handed the proverbial key to the city. Jaune took the over-sized thing with as much grace as he could, then stepped forward to the podium stacked with microphones and recited the speech his PR team had him memorise.
"In the short time I have been here, I've felt the welcome of Mistral and its people and can confidently say this feels like a home away from home. I thank you all for the warm welcome. This is a beautiful city and a beautiful country from all I know of it, and I look forward to learning and experiencing more in the coming days. Thank you."
Short, sweet and for some reason everyone seemed to love it, cheering and waving as if they couldn't tell it was a manufactured statement. He hadn't been here long enough to form an opinion. Could they not see that? Were they blind, dumb or just content to live in ignorant bliss? It felt like the latter. Whatever complimented them and made them feel better about themselves.
The ceremony done, Jaune was brought back to the royal palace. Mistral had no royalty of course, but it was an age-old relic of bygone times that now served as tourist attraction, museum and seat of the council's power. His father was there, but the rest of his family had chosen to evade the attention and retire to their rooms. Smart of them. His father flashed him a nod and a small smile, reassurance of his presence, and Jaune felt a little better for it, before he was once more blindsided by a well-dressed man leading a tall girl at his side.
"Mr Arc. May I introduce your dinner guest for the evening. She's quite the rising star within Mistral – homegrown talent. Why, you may well be seeing her win the Vytal Festival in a couple of years."
More showing off. Maybe even the honeytrap Elm had warned him of before. Jaune smiled blankly and offered his hand. "Nice to meet you, miss-?"
"Am I that forgettable?"
The voice was, to his distress, not familiar, but then he had to deal with hundreds of people every day. The face wasn't much better, but the blood-red hair at least sparked a distant memory. The girl was pretty, with bright green eyes and a bronze tiara pulling her scarlet hair from her face. It fell in a ponytail behind her.
"I'm sorry," said Jaune. "I think we've met before, but I can't…"
"Pyrrha. Pyrrha Nikos."
Her hand met his, grasped and shook firmly. The name did sound familiar, but only in that distant heard it once before sort of way. It wasn't hard to guess from her leather and bronze outfit that she was a huntress, however. Or one in training. "Weiss' birthday party, wasn't it?"
"That's right." Her smile was dazzling. "I shouldn't be surprised you forgot. It was quite the hectic evening."
"Pyrrha is now the third-time running national champion for her age bracket," interrupted the man who had brought her up to him. There was a flash of something in Pyrrha's face. Distaste, annoyance – at the words, or at being interrupted? Jaune couldn't tell which. "A feat never before achieved. They've taken to calling her the Invincible Girl. Why, I dare say that she is the pride of Mistral, just as you are the pride of Atlas."
He hoped not – for her sake. "That's impressive."
"Please don't think anyone of it," said Pyrrha. "It's nothing compared to the things you have accomplished."
Jaune cringed. "Please. Don't think anything of that either. I'd rather not talk about it."
"Humble, eh?" asked the man, somehow still thinking he was a part of the conversation. Or maybe he was just pushing in. "That speaks well of you, but you shouldn't discount the great work you've done. There are few people on Remnant who can claim to have saved as many lives as you."
"I don't save lives. If people come to me, they've already died."
"I'm sure they don't see it that way. You're a hero, Jaune – may I call you Jaune? – and you're likely to go down in history as such. There will be lessons in a hundred years on your life and your accomplishments. They will talk about you in the same awed tones as the great king of-"
"Mr Sands." Pyrrha interrupted him with a cough. "I think we should take to our seats. We're causing a scene."
"Hm? What? Oh yes, of course. Forgive an old man his moment." He laughed and ushered them both toward their set positions at the grand table. Jaune looked for Weiss and saw her with her father and brother. Her eyes met his, but she didn't look bothered by him being with Pyrrha. She smiled at him and waved her fingers, and he waved back goofily before being pushed down into a grand seat.
Pyrrha was offered the chair to his left, while the right was taken by Clover Ebi. It was a compromise Mistral had to accept, that there would always be a bodyguard at his side. Fortunately, they'd been good sports about it, or so he'd heard Elm saying. There was another speech before the food arrived, and three toasts – one to him, one to their hosts from Ironwood and then a general one to the success of the Vytal Festival – and then the food was being brought out. Jaune would have been happy to just eat, but Pyrrha seemed determined to talk, and he didn't want to seem rude by ignoring her.
"I'm looking forward to the festival as a way to just relax and not have to worry about performing for once. Everyone always expects me to be the one fighting."
"You are the Invincible Girl."
"No one is invincible, and I only beat people in my age bracket. The people competing here could destroy me." Pyrrha paused, then asked, "I'm sorry, is it strange that you have to be here with me and not your girlfriend?"
"I'm used to it. Don't worry."
"She wants to become a huntress as well, doesn't she?"
"That's right. I think Beacon is her goal." At least talking about Weiss wasn't talking about him, which was some small relief. "What about you?"
"I don't really know," said Pyrrha. "I plan to attend an academy, but everyone expects me to default to Haven." She cringed. "Can you not mention that I said that? I haven't made my mind up yet and I don't want everyone to start freaking out."
"It's fine," said Jaune, not really prepared to say that he didn't care enough to share her secret. "Why would they care though?" he asked. "It's your choice. Go where you want to go."
"It's… not that easy." Her knife and fork clinked down, and though Pyrrha didn't stop smiling, there was a certain tension to her that made it clear she was unhappy. "Can I… Can I ask you something personal?"
It was his turn to tense up. People always wanted to know more about him, and it was never a good idea to share. There was a tendency for things said in confidence to find their ways to newspapers. "You can ask. I'm not sure I'll be able to answer."
"How do you deal with it?" Jaune blinked and, for the first time, turned to look at her properly. Pyrrha looked afraid, anxious, even worried. Her voice was a whisper.
"Deal with what?"
"The fame," whispered Pyrrha. "How… How do you handle it? I… It hasn't been a year and I'm already… I thought it was fun before, exciting, but now…"
"You're famous…?"
He didn't mean it to sound so dismissive, and yet Pyrrha laughed bitterly. She didn't look unhappy so much as resigned. "Not as famous as you," she admitted. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised you wouldn't even know."
"I'm sorry. I don't watch the news much."
"I don't at all," she said. "I'm… I'm afraid of it. Afraid of seeing something about me." She looked at him, eyes wide and desperate. "How do you deal with it? You have to know. How do you handle it all and keep smiling?"
He wasn't smiling now. "I don't."
"W-What? But-"
"I don't have a solution for you." He didn't even have one for himself. "Get out while you can. That's my advice. Throw a fight, retire or leave Mistral. At least you can still do that," he muttered, under his breath. "At least you still have a choice."
A wild Pyrrha appears – and hey, she's less famous than Jaune. Now if only he would accept help and come out his funk, he might realise what a kindred spirit he's just found, but alas, if Pyrrha was filled with despair in canon, well, this Jaune is ten times worse. He's not just losing hope – he's lost it.
Next Chapter: 4th October
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