A Sunday without drama and without anything going crazy or wrong? It's a miracle! Well, it's also 9am at the time of writing this message, so it might be a little too early to say anything, but hey – no disasters upon waking up. That's new.

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 9

The crowd had to contain three quarters of Ansel, not huge by any means, but more than enough to drag a family out and stone them to death. Neighbours, family friends and everyone he'd ever known, their faces lit orange by the blare of torches, and stretched into horrible masks as they shouted and brayed for his blood. Jaune stood rooted to the spot, at least until one of his sisters screamed from below.

Then, he found his footing.

Charging to the edge of the second floor he leapt down and stamped out the torch that had come through the window and startled Lavender. Juniper was at the door, bracing it shut, but they'd only burn the house down with everyone inside it. Nicholas was still out, unconscious on a cot with a bowl of honey and herbal medicine beside him, bandaged up with his hands at his sides. He wouldn't awake in time to stop this – if he even could. They were shouting louder now, chanting the Goddess' name and preparing themselves to rush the building, drag him out and kill him and anyone else that got in their way.

I need you again, Jaune thought inwardly. He couldn't believe he was calling on the Dark Lord a second time for help, but what choice did he have? Help me save my family. Do whatever you like with me, but don't let them burn this place down.

The same chill feeling as before ran through his body. Visions swam in his mind, visions of battles, of war, of people screaming and dying – almost as if he was being asked if that was what he wanted. He didn't. Of course he didn't. But if the only option was death for him and his family or death for their would-be killers? Well, he knew which he would pick.

Just save them. Send these people running.

No answer. No one taking control of him, no calm and no voices. It felt as though he'd been abandoned. Left to his own devices. Was that it? No help? Was there some kind of time or other limit on the Dark Lord taking control? Did it not care if his family died? Probably not – he was the Dark Lord after all, a god of evil and strife and war.

Then he would force its hand. He would force it to act. Jaune marched to the door ignoring the desperate cries of his sister, took the spear resting by it and gently pushed Juniper out the way. She cried for him to stop, knowing what fate awaited her son outside, but he moved her aside and slipped out the door, into the cold, blustering snow and into the hands of the roaring mob. They screamed on seeing him, some in fear and others in anger, and pitchforks, hoes and wood axes were aimed his way.

Jaune gripped the spear tight. "Well, here it is," he whispered to himself. "If you don't do something now I'm going to die. We both are."

"The Dark Lord!" a woman screeched.

"Monster!"

"To death! To death with him!"

"In the name of the Goddess!"

"Salem take you, fiend!"

A rock sailed by and struck the wooden wall to the left of his head with a loud crack that made him jump. The Dark Lord wasn't taking control even in the face of all of this, and Jaune lowered his spearpoint towards the mob nervously. The aggressive action wasn't taken well, and someone went so far as to hurl a hatchet at him. The gleaming metal, more than capable of taking his life, had to be deflected out the air by his spear tip, and disappeared into the snow.

"Kill him!" a man yelled.

The mob lurched forward.

"ENOUGH!" The roar came from off to the side. Mayor Cobbin, covered in thick fur and wool, trudged through the heavy snow with a member of the militia on either side of him. He used the momentary shock of his arrival to place himself between Jaune and the mob. "Enough, I say! What madness grips you all tonight? What madness that I see men and women that drink in my own tavern now trying to burn a family to ash?"

"He's the Dark Lord!" someone shouted.

"You can't vouch for him this time, Cobbin." A familiar figure strode out from the mob. Tulle. The swarthy, pocked man was unarmed. Jaune wondered if he'd been the one to throw the axe. "We all of us saw what he did. Fought off two Grimm – something that no one could do without the aid of foul magic. We're not blind or dumb here. He's the Dark Lord! And by the Goddess' name, we'll not let him or his ilk stay here!"

The mob roared with him, shaking their weapons and torches in the air. For a second Jaune thought they might charge the mayor too, that Cobbin would be pulled down underfoot and killed for defending him.

And then the mayor laughed.

He laughed!

"Do you think yourself a woman now, Tulle? Think yourself one of the Goddess' chosen? Or maybe you think yourself her mouthpiece. Is that it? Old Tulle speaks the words of the Goddess himself, does he?"

Tulle shook his head, confused. "I'd never. But tis clear-"

"Tis clear you think yourself better than the Chosen!" Cobbin roared. "For they came not two months past and declared the boy free of taint, did they not?" Several men and women in the crowd shuffled awkwardly. "They came, laid a hand on the boy and told us all he was not the Dark Lord. Aye, they even spoke with 'im, even paid him coin and asked his help to show them through the forest. In all that time they said he was as normal as you or I, normal enough to trust him even, but apparently that's not enough for you. All of you!" he shouted. "You all know better. Is that it? You all know better than two of the Goddess' own agents? Is that what you believe?"

No one would dare admit to that. "What he did with the Grimm was unnatural." someone said. "No man can have that much strength as to drag one down."

"I hear you, Jamie. And I remember your da havin' the strength to pull an ox off you not six winters past. Unnatural, that was, yet we hailed him a hero, didn't we?" The boy flinched and looked down. "And we've all heard the tales of men and women moving faster, being stronger, when their loved ones are in trouble. Parents who can push a cart off a boy, mothers who fend off wolves for their children. So, when Jaune here finds the strength to do the same to save his father, his sisters, he's suddenly a monster. Is that it?"

Mayor Cobbin looked over the crowd like a disappointed parent over a gaggle of his children. It was incredible that he kept his calm, and even more incredible that the villagers looked chastised.

Except Tulle. "You ever side with him!" he accused. "We all know you and Nicholas are the best of friends!"

"And I know well you never forgave Juniper choosing him!" Cobbin shot back. Tulle flinched, backing up with wide eyes. "Aye, Tulle, we all know you were sweet on her ever since you were a child. It broke your heart when she fell in love with an outsider, but that doesn't excuse you waging a damned war on him and his children."

Jaune didn't know if it was true or not. Ever since he'd been born had Tulle disliked him, and the same went for his father. His sisters often got a free pass and he'd assumed it was because they didn't have visions and nightmares, but was it instead because they looked like Juniper? There was no telling if Cobbin was right or not, but he could see that those in the mob were now even more conflicted, wondering if they weren't here because of one man's jealousy. Some were already leaving, trudging away muttering, and yet more had lowered their makeshift weapons.

"And let me point out one last thing," Mayor Cobbin said to them all. "That if he were the Dark Lord, that if Jaune here was the reborn avatar for the Dark Lord himself, then what in Salem's name do you think you lot would be able to do armed with pitchforks and torches?" Silence. Complete silence. "Nothing! That's what! You'd have all of you followed Tulle to your deaths, and the Dark Lord would have turned Ansel into a graveyard. You damn fools are lucky it's just the boy. You're lucky I was here to stop you all committing a tragedy. Now back to your homes. Back, I say, and think about what you near did tonight. A wounded father who has protected Ansel for decades, a worried wife, seven daughters and one son – all burned to death for one man's jealousy. I have never been so ashamed to call myself mayor. Not once in thirty years!"

To Jaune's shock, several of the mob started to call out apologies to him, to Nicholas and even louder to Juniper. People glared at Tulle, while others tugged their hoods down to hide their shame and trudged away. Soon, it was just Tulle and his own, and then the man broke his nerve and scurried away, face flamed red and snarling obscenities.

Jaune let his spear tip touch the snow. "M-Mayor Cobbin…"

"Inside, lad. Inside."

Juniper fussed over Jaune the moment he stepped back into the house, and then after making sure he was okay went to profusely thank Mayor Cobbin. The man had quite literally saved their lives tonight, and he'd done so with nothing more than words. He looked tired, as he probably should at so late an hour, but he managed a laugh for their sakes. "Tulle was right about one thing. Nicholas and I are old friends. I'd sooner see the tavern burn than his house while he sleeps. I'd never be able to face him otherwise. Alas, it's not all good news that brings me here." Cobbin sighed and looked to Jaune. "Lad, you need to leave the village."

It was like a blow to the gut. "You're banishing me?"

"If I must for your own good, aye, but I'm not. I'm hoping you'll see reason. Tulle and his lot might be dealt with tonight, but I guarantee you they will be sending letters to the city about this. We might have yet more Chosen coming to make sure you don't have the Dark Lord within you."

"I don't." Jaune lied. "You said as much yourself out there."

Mayor Cobbin smiled sadly. "I said what needed to be said, lad. Not what I believe. And not the truth. We both know that."

He let that statement sit in the air, let the tension grow. No one disputed it. Not Jaune, not his mother, not his sisters. He realised then that they all knew. Not that there was much hiding it after what he'd done against the Grimm. Jaune looked to his mother, and while she didn't look away her eyes did water. He was the one to break eye contact.

"I still believe it's you," the mayor said, "And anyone who saw the look on your face as you raced out to save your dad and sisters won't dare disagree. But I also saw the fire you summoned, the strength you wielded and how you killed a Grimm with a hunting knife. That ain't natural. None of it is."

"If I leave then they'll take it as a sign they were right and come after my family."

"Not if I twist the narrative first. I plan to confront them tomorrow morning, accuse them of driving a good boy out the village in the middle of winter. How they frightened you so much you decided you couldn't have a life here. I'll twist the guilt on Tulle, frame you as the victim and let shame do the rest. No one would fault you leaving after tonight, and if you do so before you could even know the Chosen were coming back then they couldn't accuse you of running away from them either."

That was it then. There wasn't much he could say to argue, not after they'd near burned the house down to get to him. They might have backed off for now but how many had seen the fire he summoned across his spear? How many would, after more thought, decide that such strength went far beyond what Cobbin suggested. And when the Chosen came back, they were sure to identify him this time. Now that he had aura.

He'd always known he would leave Ansel eventually, if only because no one here would marry the cursed child, but now that it was here, now that the moment had arrived, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide.

"It has to be tonight, doesn't it?"

"Aye, lad."

"But father…"

"Could take days or weeks to wake. Write to him. He can read and I know he taught you, and there's no reason as your mail would be intercepted. You have my word I'll look after him and your family, but that'll only be possible if you're not around to rile the people up. You need to leave before anyone can get it in their heads that your mother and father are harbouring the Dark Lord."

At which point they would all become targets. Traitors. Heathens. Shame could only go so far, and Cobbin couldn't be everywhere at once. All it would take was one person deciding to take the Goddess' justice into their own hands and someone would die. He couldn't stay. Not now with the entirety of Ansel on edge and panicking over the Grimm.

And I'll only draw more Grimm if what dad said is true. Grimm are drawn to aura, and I have it now. Those Grimm were probably looking for me. Even if the villagers don't do anything to us, the Grimm might.

"I'll go," he finally said. "I'll leave tonight."

"Meet me at the tavern before you do." Mayor Cobbin said. "I'll have a travel bag readied with food and supplies – and I have something else for you as well." He patted Jaune's shoulder and moved to the door. "I'll leave you to your family for now. I'm sorry it came to this, lad. I really am."

He wasn't the only one.

/-/

An hour didn't feel like time enough to say goodbye, not when his mother was so weepy and his father sleeping. His sisters didn't seem to know what to say or do. Their hugs were awkward, as if they weren't sure if he was still him and not the Dark Lord impersonating him. It hurt to have them look away, but he told himself they were just frightened. Hopefully, they'd realise the truth after he was gone.

Ansel was as silent as the grave after tonight's near riot. Everyone stayed to their homes out of fear or guilt, and even the tavern was empty. Not a single soul occupied the many seats and no drink flowed. Mayor Cobbin was speaking to his wife, Katrin, and she was stuffing wrapped meat and produce into a large leather pack with two shoulder straps. She saw him, nudged her husband and pointed.

"Ah, Jaune." Mayor Cobbin strode over with remarkable calm for a man who knew he was addressing an evil god infesting a human. "There you are. How is your mother taking it? Poorly, I assume."

"Poorly." Jaune confirmed. "She understands the need but…"

"No one is happy to see their children go, let alone be forced out. Take it as a good sign," he said, wrapping an arm about Jaune's shoulder. "Tis proof her love for you transcends any fear she might have of what lays inside. It hurts now but remember this pain when you feel lost. Remember that it hurt because she loves you so."

"Thank you, Mayor Cobbin. You're a good man."

"Ha. The church and the people might disagree if they knew I was helping ye. Katrin and I have prepared you food for travel. I have a letter here." He handed Jaune a thin envelope. "Tis a recommendation as your mayor, proof of your character for any village or town you might choose to try and settle down in. It should ease the doubts of some, though not all. I'm hardly famous across the world. I have something else for you – or rather, your father would if he were awake."

Mayor Cobbin moved back behind his bar and reached under it. A lock clicked open, and he came back up with a long object wrapped in velvet cloth. He set it down on the counter and nodded for Jaune to pick it up. He reached out, pausing when he felt something heavy beneath the cloth. Something metal. Drawing it aside, he gasped at the weapon that lay within.

His father had told him he was a mercenary, and that entailed weaponry and armour, but he'd never seen any around the house. This explained why. The sword was beautiful, the crossguard a glinting golden colour, the hilt a sharp blue and the sheathe leather capped with a steel tip and stitched with red thread. Picking up the sheath in one hand, he wrapped his fingers around the leather grip and drew. There was a little resistance, a tug, before the blade slid free, sparkling silver sharp with a fuller indented into the middle. Lettering had been expertly pressed into the blade just above the fuller.

"Crocea Mors," he read. "Is that in the old tongue?"

"It means Yellow Death, or so Nicholas told me." Cobbin said. "The name he was given after slaying a rogue knight. You father sold his armour and equipment to settle down with your mother, but he couldn't bring himself to sell this. He didn't want to see it either, nor have his children know of the name he once held. Asked me to keep it safe. I've been looking after it, polishing and maintaining it. He saved my life with that blade. It's how I met him. Two bandits had me and were set to kill me before he found them. I've never seen a man move like he did. So purposefully. Given the trouble that may well follow you around, I think he'd want you to have it. May it keep you safe as it did your father."

Swallowing, Jaune picked the weapon up with reverence, held it to his chest and let out a quiet breath. "T-Thank you. It feels like I keep saying that but you've done so much for me."

"Your father has done as much for me, and to be frank, lad, you've earned your place in Ansel better than some have. If only the people could see that. In truth, I wish I could do more. Sending you out in the middle of winter, food or no, is no way to repay your old man."

Neither of them had a choice. It would be weeks yet until the snows stopped, and a month more until the roads were clear for safe travel. The Chosen would be upon him long before then, if the villagers didn't take matters into their own hands first.

"Do you have any advice on where I should go?"

"That depends on what you want from life. My advice would be not to tell me." Cobbin winked. "Then I won't be lying when I tell the Huntresses I have no idea which direction you went. I know you've no knowledge of the outside world however, which is why I've found you a guide of sorts."

The tavern doors opened at that moment. Two people entered, wrapped up tight in hoods and travel clothing with packs of their own. It wasn't until the smallest lowered her hood that Jaune recognised her. "Ruby…?"

The girl smiled back. "Hey!"

"Then that must be…?"

Ruby's father, Taiyang, drew his hood down and offered a warm smile. That he was up and about was frankly a miracle. That he wanted to travel at all was reckless. "Hello there. Ruby tells me I have you to thank for saving my life. The name's Taiyang. Nice to meet ya."

"Did Mayor Cobbin put you both up to this? You may think you owe me, but you should stay until the snows thaw. I can make my way on my own. You've done enough-"

"We can't stay here anyway." Ruby interrupted him. "It's the middle of winter and we're outsiders without much coin or food. Your family couldn't feed us all winter. Besides, Ansel was never our destination."

"We only stopped here because of my injuries." Taiyang said. "Ideally, we'd have kept moving, and we intended to leave once I was better anyway. I have… family. Of a sort. We were headed to see if they would take us in." He grinned. "You're welcome to join us. The road is always safer with more people."

"Even if I'm the Dark Lord?"

Katrin winced. Cobbin sighed. Taiyang chuckled awkwardly, but it was Ruby who stomped up and punched him heavily in the gut. Jaune gasped and stepped back.

"Don't say that! And I wouldn't care if you were. You saved dad."

"I've put up with worse people." Taiyang said. "And Ruby tells me you're an alright sort. Frankly, travelling with a guy who can take on two Grimm sounds a lot safer than going it alone. If it means getting my daughter to safety, I don't much care who I shack up with."

"And I figure you wouldn't have risked your safety for your dad and sisters if you really were the Dark Lord." Ruby said. "Not every guy who has aura has to be him, right? There have to be others. You're too sane to be him."

He was definitely the Dark Lord, but he didn't say so. If Ruby wanted to believe otherwise, he'd let her. As for Taiyang, well, the man was desperate and worried about his daughter. Jaune couldn't fault that.

They've travelled before as well, and they have somewhere to go. I'd just be wandering aimlessly. I don't even have a plan, so I might as well tag along and see what happens.

If nothing else, he'd appreciate the company.

"If you're willing to have me…"

"We are." Taiyang smiled and Ruby jumped up and down happily. "Whatever you are, kid, you're the one who saved my life. I owe you for that and I always pay my debts. I can't say where we're going will be your cup of brandy, but you're welcome to come along. We'll vouch for you. The place we're headed, well, the people there don't much care about where you're from or what you used to do. They only care about what you can offer or how strong you are. Cobbin tells me you're a competent hunter. They'd not turn someone like that away."

It was a plan if nothing else. Seeing as his own was just `leave the village` and nothing more, it was all he had. "Then I'd be happy to go with you." Jaune hooked his father's sword on his belt, working the straps around and through the steel buckle on the side of the sheathe. It was heavy and unfamiliar on his waist, but not so heavy that he couldn't grow accustomed to it. "I promise I won't harm you or your daughter, sir. Whatever I am, whatever I have inside me, I'm no monster."

"Ruby has told me as much." He ruffled the girl's hair. "And she's a good judge of character."

/-/

The wooden gates of Ansel slid shut behind them, the log bar falling into place and the torches spluttering in the wintry wind. The closing of the gate felt like the turning of a page in his life; it had a finality to it, as if he were being sealed out and left to die in the snow. Jaune pulled his scarf up over his nose and mouth, squinted his eyes until he could see through the haze of white. His thick cloak flapped and tugged at him, exposing his fur pants and leather boots, lined with wool on the insides. His hood threatened to slip back, and he tied it tighter with twine, grateful for the fur-lined interior that kept his ears warm.

Ruby and Taiyang were dressed little different. For all the distance between Ansel and Patch there was little deviation in what people wore in winter. They might as well have been wearing the same things. The only real difference was that Ruby's hood and cloak were a deep burgundy colour, a stark contrast to his and Taiyang's brown that made her stand out against the white fields and brown tree trunks.

Jaune gripped a spear in his hand, the butt dug into the snow for purchase and the point collecting frost. Crocea Mors lay sheathed at his side, while a bow, unstrung, was strapped vertically to the side of his pack. There would be little game to hunt with it now, but there might not be time to whittle or buy another, and he might well have to make a new life with the belongings on his back.

If not, the two silver coins the Huntresses had given him rested within his coin pouch, flat against his chest on a cord of cotton thread. A fortune by Ansel's standards, and wealth that might be able to buy him a new home. If I can ever settle down. Everyone knows the Dark Lords are eventually driven to insanity. That'll be my fate in time.

"Are we ready?" Taiyang shouted above the snow. "We travel east. That's where they last were. Anything more, and we'll need to follow their tracks. It shouldn't be too hard."

"I'm ready, dad." Ruby looked overly chipper for being essentially exiled from Ansel in the middle of the winter. The cold snow didn't seem to have dimmed her spirits any. "Are you good, Jaune?"

Good? No. He was leaving his family and everything behind, driven out his village by a power that would consume him in time. But beside from that… well, he was as good as he'd ever be. He hunched his pack up higher on his back, gripped the straps in his thick mittens and nodded his head. "I'm ready. Lead on."

Taiyang turned away and began moving, and Jaune trudged after, listening with half an ear to Ruby as she hummed a happy tune. It wasn't a familiar one, at least not to him, and yet it felt like he'd heard it before in some distant, faraway land.

"Salem must be stopped," a voice whispered in his ear. "It is our destiny."

Jaune gripped his straps tighter and pretended he didn't hear it.

And so, we're on the road. I did want to take a slower into to this story than I usually do. Maybe it was too slow – you decide. But now we're on the road and travelling, and things will soon open up.

Next Chapter: 27th March

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