Second half of chapter here.
Still very sick – had to take day off work as a result. On medication and hoping I'll be fine this weekend. Ugh.
Cover Art: GWBrex
Chapter 42.5
It started with a clamour and a cry from the village people, and then screaming. It wasn't as chaotic as it could have been because these people lived with the threat of Grimm day in and say out. As a result, as the alarm was raised, doors were slammed and barred shut and families retreated to basements. Within minutes, the village had gone almost silent but for the brave few with guns who acted as a militia. It was those he and Elm arrived at as a Nevermore swooped along the walls. It had bypassed the closed gate entirely.
"Stay out the way," Elm told him. "I'll handle this."
Had it been something on the ground he might have argued he could help, but short of leaping off a rooftop to catch its talons there wasn't much he could do. Elm raced up the wooden staircase to the top of the wall and slapped several militiamen down, making herself the largest target on the wall and waving her hands aggressively. The militia, knowing who and what she was, wisely crawled their way to cover. The Nevermore would dive down on whatever target it saw, and it wasn't like a normal animal that might look for weak or injured people. Any human was prey enough to the Grimm. With a mighty screech, it wheeled in the air, tucked in its wings and dived down for Elm with its talons extended.
If this were anyone else, he might have been worried.
Elm grinned and caught its talons one in each powerful hand, clasped her fingers between its claws and yanked it down over her head, crashing its body into the floor. The wood cracked and splintered, collapsing underfoot and spilling them both down to the ground. Elm landed hard, as did the Grimm, but while she was able to kick onto her feet and leap away, it struggled in the wreckage, its large wings not being able to stretch out without hitting wooden support pillars or being pinned under fallen planks.
It was over from there. Elm raced in and dodged its snapping beak, then caught it around its neck with her meaty arm and pulled its head down in a lock. With one arm holding that, her other took its beak and twisted mercilessly. There was a mighty crack as its hollow bones snapped, and the thing slumped in place, wings splaying out uselessly. Seconds later, it began to disappear.
"All good!" she called out to the belltower. A man up there waved back and rang a different bell, higher pitched and more musical. Doors didn't open and spill people out but a few windows cracked open, and he was sure families would slowly extricate themselves from their basements. They'd still be nervous for now. Caution saved lives.
"Are you hurt?" asked Jaune, jogging up. Elm laughed and shook her head. "Did you plan for the walkway to collapse?"
"Did I-? Oh, yeah. Sure." Her wink said it all. "I totally planned all that. This definitely isn't an ultimatum that I need to lose some weight." Elm's weight was all muscle anyway, but Jaune laughed regardless. The Grimm was probably half of it at least. He scanned the area for the standing militiamen, but they all looked to be okay. Elm called out, just to be safe. "Were there any casualties? Is everyone accounted for?"
"Bastard got Byron!" snapped one of the men, aged and tired looking. Swooped down and knocked him flat before any of us noticed it. He spat on the ground. "Fucking let our guards down, we did. Always keep an eye up. First thing you learn and… aw shit. His parents. I need to tell them."
Jaune felt Elm's gaze on his head. He grimaced, but this was what he was here for. "I can-"
"A moment," said Elm, interrupting him. "All you militia who saw this come here a moment. We need to have a discussion. Privately. And right now." When Jaune opened his mouth, she waved him over. "You too Jaune. Let's try and keep this on the down low, yeah? This is meant to be a break for you."
On the down low? Secret? His eyes widened as he realised what she meant. Since everyone else was locked up inside, only the militia had seen any action – only they knew this Byron character was dead. He jogged to keep up as Elm gathered the six or so people, including the one up in the tower, and dragged the dead body out of sight. They looked furious, but she waved them over and spoke in a no-nonsense voice.
"All right, you lot. Listen here and listen well. You know what a Semblance is?" There were nods. "Good. You might have been wondering why my friend here was sent with us. He has a Semblance that Vale thought could be useful, but it comes with some very strict requirements. There's no easy way to say this, so… he can bring back your friend here."
The oldest of them snarled, "What the fu-"
"He's the miracle boy!" another gasped, drawing gazes. "Oh shit, I heard- but I thought it was bullshit. Uh. No offence." He noticed his own friends' expressions and explained. "It's big news in the city apparently, and I heard it from a trader. They have some miracle lad who can bring back the dead – or so they say."
"Bullshit," said a third.
"If it's bullshit then you'll see it's bullshit in a few seconds," Elm pointed out. That brought them up short. "Look, it has conditions. No more than four hours dead is one, so don't go thinking he can bring back everyone you ever cared for. Also, the reason we're telling you and not everyone else is because we're trying to keep a low profile out here. Jaune has been swarmed by people in the past, sometimes with dangerous consequences. We are doing our best to avoid that."
"And you want our help?"
"Not your help. Just your silence. We'll bring your friend back and all we ask is that you let the story be that he didn't die at all."
"At least until we're gone," said Jaune, speaking up when they looked unsure. "This isn't a secret you have to keep to your graves or anything. You can tell everyone what happened once I'm gone."
The militia looked between one another. It seemed less a silent discussion on whether to accept the offer and more of whether they believed him in the first places. Mostly, they shrugged, as if agreeing that Byron was dead and it couldn't hurt to try, and if they were lying then not much would come of it. It wasn't like they were asking for payment.
"Well," said the lead militiaman at last. "I guess it can't hurt. Byron's parents will be heartbroken when they see this. Uh. Do you need anything?"
"Only his body, sir." Jaune took a deep breath and stepped forward. "I can do this now."
It was a familiar feeling and a familiar tug, but it didn't feel as exhausting as usual. It was only one person after all, and he'd had a full day's rest. If anything releasing a little aura felt relieving, like using the restroom when you'd been desperate for hours. That probably wasn't a good sign because aura shouldn't want to be used freely, but he figured it was a consequence of the work being so ingrained into him that his body had gotten used to it.
Within seconds, Byron stirred, crying out first in shock – no doubt reliving his last moment – and then looking around in confusion. The militia gasped and covered their mouths, though one had the forethought to rush forward and take Byron in hand, holding him still before he could panic and hurt himself.
"Bloody hell, it's real. It's all real…"
"Remember your promise," said Elm.
"Aye. We'll… gods. We'll make sure Byron knows. You heard the lady. Far as anyone is concerned, we were able to avoid any trouble until she arrived. No one died. No one was even hurt. Someone go get a bucket of water and clean all that blood up." The old man wiped a hand over his face. "You think you've seen everything and then this? Thank ye for your help, ma'am. And you, lad. Thank you for… well, thank you."
Jaune nodded and moved away with Elm, bunching up his shoulders as he went. The village was still quiet, so he was hopeful the news wouldn't spread – and they'd looked grateful enough. Once they were back by the tavern, waiting for the door to be unbarricaded, Jaune asked Elm how long it would be before Team CFVY returned and they could be off.
"A couple of hours at most. Assuming they clear the forest out to a satisfactory level." Elm gripped his shoulder. "It should be fine."
/-/
It wasn't fine.
To their credit, no one in the militia talked. It was some asshole who had been watching out a window when he should have barricaded up. He hadn't seen Jaune heal Byron, but he'd seen someone be brought down by the Nevermore, and he'd seen blood. That person's cries and claims echoed around the village until there was talk of a death covered up, only for the militia to gather and show themselves alive and ask who the hell could have died. Even Byron stuck to the story.
That cut down on a lot of the suspicion, but then the blood had been seen – not able to be cleaned up quickly enough. The militia had admitted there might have been a few injuries, quickly dealt with, but none of them were willing to show off what must have been a grievous wound to result in so much blood.
The militia doubled down and refused to talk – respecting his wishes to the point they snapped at those who pushed. There were arguments, shouting, but they refused to say what had really happened, and for that Jaune was grateful. He and Elm sat in the tavern doing their best to ignore it until the militia left to avoid any more trouble, going back to the walls and blocking out anyone who tried to talk to them.
"They may not be military, but they're still soldiers of a sort," whispered Elm. "There's a bond there, and they'll stick by you no matter what it costs them for saving one of their own. Helps that it only has to last until we go. The problem is the rest assuming something is up."
"Yeah. Paranoid lot, aren't they?"
"To be fair, a Grimm died with no losses. That's suspicious to them. This isn't a major city with a huge wall and a host of huntsmen ready to protect them. When the Grimm come, you count yourselves lucky if only one or two people die."
I'll have to keep that in mind if I really do decide to go with Mercury's advice, thought Jaune. Going away to some far-flung village would only keep him safe so long as he didn't reveal himself. Would it have been better to leave the man dead? Not now, but he had to wonder if it would have been had it been him alone in a village. People died all the time; it was a natural part of life. And this proves just how hard it is to keep that secret. We did everything we could but there's still suspicion.
That suspicion rose over the next two hours. Jaune sat and ate and drank in silence, watching every person that came close, terrified that one of them might just tune in to some news in Vale and see his face. That was all it would take. They were banking on everyone here being so distant as to not bother, but with the danger of Grimm about they were all sitting around bored without any work to do. It'd take a single person.
Luckily, Team CFVY arrived before that person did. They looked worn out but satisfied, and Coco reported to Elm. "We found tracks that led to a decently sized herd that we think some of the stragglers were off-shoots from. Almost fifty of them in total. We wiped them out and did another perimeter to be sure, but I'm convinced we've fixed the problem."
"Good to hear. The village was attacked while you were gone." There were gasps among the team, and a moment of dread from Coco. "Don't worry, we dealt with it. There was one casualty that Jaune fixed up."
"Fuck. I…" Coco grimaced. "I should have predicted this."
"I'm sure you will next time. You should report to the chief of the village and let them know what's sorted. Don't mention Jaune. The militia have agreed to keep silent on his semblance. We'd prefer it be kept that way until we're gone."
"Sure. I'll get on that. Velvet, with me. Yats, Fox, can you gather our stuff?"
The team split up and two went upstairs while two went to report. It was a simple mission in all, but Jaune supposed that made sense for students. Team CFVY were upper years, but they weren't graduated yet, and this was still life or death despite the particulars of it all being uncomplicated. If it weren't for him then someone would have died on the job anyway, which would have been haunting. Or he assumed so.
Velvet and Coco returned not twenty minutes later. Coco whispered to Velvet and hurried upstairs, while the faunus rushed over to them. "We need to go quickly," she said, voice a hushed whisper. "The village chief was on call to someone in Vale and I heard them mention you by name," she added, nodding at Jaune. "I think they know. Or they're about to know."
Jaune swore but Elm just sighed and stood. "It was bound to happen. At least we made it this far. Come on."
Team CFVY came back down a moment later and the six of them hurried outside. There was already a small crowd waiting for them. Not rushing, not yet, and not toward one huntress and four students from Beacon – and certainly not with the militia already forming another line between them and telling them to disperse and get back to their homes.
"It is him!" shouted a female voice. "He's the real thing!"
"Time to go," hissed Elm.
The crowd followed them outside to the landing Bullhead, but as much as he could tell they wanted to rush him, they didn't. They were too small a crowd to gather the courage or stupidity necessary to push them like that. It took hundreds to feel confident enough to push through armed men and women, and many more to get past huntsmen. The village just didn't have such numbers, so they pointed and watched and recorded his face and shouted out for his name and time. Elm pushed him into the back of the Bullhead and Team CFVY after him. Coco took the spot next to him.
"I feel like a bodyguard to some celebrity," she said, laughing nervously.
"Yeah?" asked Fox. "Because I feel like a survivor in a zombie movie hunted by the horde."
"They do feel a little inhuman," said Yatsuhashi. "Or perhaps it is us who feel different." He glanced over at Jaune. "Is this how it always is for you?"
"No," said Jaune. "Normally there is more shouting and screaming; people blaming me for not saving their loves ones, or demanding I work harder or take less time off. Or they're accusing me of being a murderer."
Elm clambered on and slammed a hand on the cockpit door. "Go. Get us out of here."
The Bullhead pulled up off the grass and rushed away, leaving behind a village that had felt so welcoming and homely that he'd wanted to retire and live them for the rest of his days. Until, in a single moment, it became anything but.
Next Chapter: 4th May
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