Here we go!

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 14

Jaune continued to hunt game for Roland, and so continued to receive training in the central ring of the bandit's camp. He'd become common fixture enough for people to recognise him by face and name, and the meat he sometimes brought as extra for trade earned him spices and beer in trade, which he usually shared with his poorer fellows back on the outskirts. They, in turn, practically adopted him as one of their own for that.

That wasn't to say it didn't earn him his fair share of trouble. By design, the Branwen tribe rarely punched downward. You were ranked on your strength and there was a real sense that you "were who you fought" so the stronger and better-off bandits took an aloof air with those beneath them. Exceptions were given for younglings, those below fourteen, who had yet to embark on their first raid and were as such judged on their parents' worth instead, and the elderly, so long as they had been powerful in their prime. A hunter such as he should have moved higher by virtue of the food he brought in, which would have allowed those in the middle tiers to challenge or try and recruit him. The fact he hadn't was no one's business but his own, or so the sentries had said, but it reached a tipping point eventually.

Said point came when Jaune returned from training with Roland to find his tent smashed down and his meagre belongings scattered across the grass. Anna lay on her back, unconscious with a bloody nose and a black eye, while the rest of his friends – if one could call them that when they had a purely mutual agreement – were curled up in various states of pain. Their neighbours, other low-ranked and less-successful bandits watched with snickers and smug looks, but Jaune sincerely doubted they had any part in this. He touched his father's sword at his side again, relieved he'd taken it with him. The blade never left his side thanks to Qrow's warning, and it looked like he'd made the right choice there.

They weren't friends of his, but seeing his allies laid out across the floor still made his teeth grit together. They'd done their best, whether it was out of a desire for food or loyalty, and obviously been driven to the ground. Jaune knelt by one of the still-conscious ones and helped him sit up. "What happened?"

"V-Vernal." The name sounded familiar, but he'd been at the camp weeks now and couldn't place where he'd heard it. "Came with a bunch of others from the middle camp," he spat out. "We tried, man. We tried."

"I can see that. Whatever they might say, you guys gave it your best."

"Hah. Branwen don't run from nothing." He groaned and looked over to Jaune's tent, a sullen expression coming over him. "Fuck. We told 'em there was nothin' to take. Do we still got a deal?"

"Cook up the dear for yourselves," Jaune said, indicating his latest catch. He'd planned to trade it for more, but the happy look in the man's eyes told him he'd made the right choice. "Cut the antlers first and trade them and anything else you need to for someone to patch you lot up. Do you know someone who will can?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do. You want the hide saving?"

"Trade it off. Share whatever you get between yourselves. As thanks for trying."

"You got it, man." He grinned toothily, though one was loose, and he winced a moment later. "Makes getting my ass kicked worth it. We didn't have much of a chance. Vernal's lot come from the middle camp. Some are saying she'll be central in a few years. Bitch shouldn't be coming down on people like us."

"Where would I find her?"

"You going-? Hah, of course you are. Fuck, be careful. Dirty little bitch she may be, she's still a tough motherfucker."

He gave directions as best he could as the rest groaned and slowly started to wake up. Jaune left him to explain that their hunter wasn't unhappy with them and get to skinning the deer. Clapping a hand to his sword, he picked his way deeper into the camp, a low fire burning in his gut.

Bullies. There hadn't been many in Ansel, at least not intentionally, but kids would be kids and there were things that seemed okay when you were young. He'd been a target for much of it thanks to his accursed reputation, though thankfully that had ended quickly. Cursed child or not, Anselm was too small for parents to let their children act out. Mayor Tulle wouldn't let that shit fly.

Here, of course, it was different. Might made right and those further up the food chain had the right – nay, the expectation – to prey on those below. That it didn't happen more often was out of pride. Stealing from the weak made you weak, unless it was a raid, and there was a lot more rep to be gained taking meat from a strong bandit than a weakling. Say what you would about their beliefs, but the Branwen tribe managed itself. If it didn't, the old, sick and young would never survive.

"The strong ever justify their cruelty…"

Jaune ignored the voice, even if he agreed with it. He couldn't afford to – agree, that was. It would be something small and simple at first, but it would grow into more, winning him over piece by piece until he was little more than the previous hosts. I'm not you, Jaune thought. I'm my own person. Leave me alone!

From Ozma, there was no response. Even that small sentence felt more like a distant memory than actual communication, as if he was remembering a saying he'd once heard, except that he knew it came from the demon's own mouth. And really, hadn't Ozma done the same? Hadn't he tried to overthrow the Eternity Queen through strength of arms, throwing the realm into chaos time and time again?

"I bet those dying on the front lines had little reason to celebrate your leadership."

No answer, no response, only silence. Jaune wished that was more common. With a heavy sigh, he forced himself to keep going toward and through the middle ring of the camp. He'd been witnessed in the central ring sparring with Yang many a time, so no one challenged him for passing through, assuming he was on the same way again. When he took a detour near the border to the upper camps and found a short-haired woman laughing with some other girls around a fire, he knew he'd found the right person – and he recognised her. It was the archer who challenged them when they first arrived.

Maybe it was his anger that had him act or maybe he'd started to understand the way things were done here, but whatever the case Jaune marched past two of her friends before they could act, placed his boot against the hot iron pan resting in the fire and kicked downward. Stew spilled and firewood and sparks lashed out toward Vernal, who cried out in shock and scrambled back. Her allies did as well, scattering away from the fire and spilled food as those nearby suddenly started paying a lot more attention.

"What the fu-" Vernal recovered with a snarl, her eyes narrowing on him. "You!"

"Me." Jaune said, standing by the fire. "I'm here to ask you what you thought you were doing attacking my people and trashing my tent. Do you often come down to the outskirts to pick on those you feel are weaker than you?" He sneered. "How very impressive."

Call her reputation into doubt, play on her ego, it was almost too standard with the tribe. Already her cronies were flushing and their neighbours muttering and shaking their heads. There was no glory in going after the weak, no honour to be won, and they likely hadn't known Vernal's actions. Now they did, and she was burning with embarrassment.

"Does the little hunter think himself a warrior now?" Vernal snarled. "I've seen you fighting in the central ring. You're as weak as a child. You don't deserve that blade." She pointed to his hip. Yet again, Crocea Mors. He didn't understand why it was such a big deal to them. Was it all just status? That was so pointless. "You can dress and act like a warrior, but that doesn't make you one."

Jaune huffed. "All this because I have a sword. Is that really it?"

"A sword belongs to a warrior!"

"That's such a childish response." Jaune muttered it but people heard and responded angrily. This was their culture, their belief, and if it hadn't been his father's sword he might have given it up just to stop all this. "Is this because you don't have a sword?" He could tell he'd hit the nail on the head when people around them laughed. Vernal bristled. "That's it, then. Jealousy. You can't stand the idea of someone lower down having something you don't. Enough to try and steal from someone when they're out hunting. You didn't even challenge me for it when I was there to defend my tent."

More laughter, and even a few condemning looks. It was one thing to fight a person, another to ransack their home when they weren't there to defend it. That was the kind of thing the tribe did to its victims, not its own members, and whatever his plans Jaune was currently a member of the Branwen tribe.

"Then I challenge you!" Vernal shouted. "One on one combat for your sword!"

"No."

"What? I challenged you-"

"And I'm not interested," Jaune replied. "Besides, it's hardly a fair challenge, is it? You win and you get my sword. I win and what…? I get to keep my sword; it's mine anyway. You don't have anything I want."

Vernal snarled and pointed at him. "Coward!"

It would have been damning if he didn't have the perfect response. "Says the woman who waited for me to be out hunting before attacking my camp. You know, there are plenty of people with swords in the central ring that you could challenge. I wonder why it is you're after me. Could it be that you're afraid? Not willing to punch above your status? Looks to me like you're the coward-"

Vernal leapt for him.

He'd miscalculated. Taunting her wasn't a good idea, especially not with the tribe's view on spontaneous violence. Vernal came at him without a weapon, but her fist cracked off his jaw all the same, knocking him back and nearly off his feet entirely. He caught himself with one foot sliding back, but she came in a second time, hooking her fist around the arms he brought up and catching his left cheek. His vision swam as her people jeered and the others hooted at the upcoming fight. It was entertainment to them. A break from winter's monotonous cold and indolence.

Jaune could count the number of fistfights he'd been in on one hand. It showed. He held his arms vertically up in front of his face and reacted sluggishly as Vernal went low, slamming her own into his stomach, sliding away from his clumsy attempt to grab her and slicing a foot into the back of his left knee. It almost put him down on it, but he managed to stay upright and back away.

"Talk!" Vernal crowed happily, all too confident now that she knew she had the edge. "That's all you are – talk!"

Another blow came around, and this time he saw it in time to move his hands in the way. Vernal grinned, however, and quickly revealed her feint, stepping in and driving her knee into his crotch. Pain exploded through his body and stomach, nausea ripping through him enough to make him want to be sick. He dropped to his knees, hands clutched between his legs and eyes blurred with tears.

Her laughter echoed all around him.

Bitch, he growled in his head. I want to make her pay!

Vernal reached for him again. Jaune tried to knock her hands away, but she backhanded and sent him onto his side. He felt something tug at his belt – his sword. Vernal was trying to take it from him.

"No!"

"Shut the fuck up, runt," she said. "You don't deserve this."

No, no, no. Stop her. I have to stop her!

His hand snatched out and caught her wrist, twisted to turn it so her elbow was facing him right as he bucked his hips and brought his left leg spinning over. He caught her elbow just above his boot, driving her arm back on itself until a meaty crack echoed out. Vernal screamed and fell on her side, cradling her broken arm as Jaune staggered to his feet.

"Behind."

He turned at the last second, hands moving before he could stop them to deflect the punch of one of her friends. He let it sail by, tracking the other four people as they rushed him. Without meaning to or knowing why, he hooked an arm around the throat of the first, turned them to be in the way of their allies, then kicked her into them before they could recover. Two were pushed back, allowing Jaune to quickly attack the last, feinting once to make them block high, then ducking under and driving a fist up under their jaw. His knuckles ached as he struck home, knocking the woman clean off her feet.

Rather than waste time making sure she was okay, he charged the remaining three, kicking the one he'd already knocked off balance again in the back to drive her into her two friends, then launching himself at the one on the left. He skirted even further around her, forcing her to turn in such a way that she was now between him and the other, preventing them from surrounding him.

Take them out one at a time before they can collect themselves.

She tried, of course she did, but he moved in quickly and threw a punch for her face that he knew she'd block. When she did, he slipped his hands under hers, pushed her arms up and over her head, placed one foot between hers, shifted it behind her left leg and pushed back. It was almost too easy to topple her, the girl yelping as she tripped over his leg and landed in the cooling embers of the fire. Apparently, they were still hot enough for her to scream and roll on the grass to try and cool off.

The last two took one look at their fallen comrades and backed off, hands raised in surrender. The audience watched, stunned and a little alarmed, before they broke out laughing and cheering, accepting his win as easily as they did anything in this violent place. Jaune heaved for air, feeling the burn in his muscles as his limbs came back under his own control.

What was that? Was that… Ozma? Did I just…?

Had the Dark Lord taken over, or had he consciously used the Dark Lord's knowledge himself? He opened and closed his fist, looking down on Vernal as she clutched her arm and crawled away. It wasn't like when he fought the Grimm and hadn't been in control of his own body. This felt like he'd been in charge but relying on instincts not his own.

"What is going on here?"

Jaune turned aside in time to see Raven stood with one hand on her hip and the other on the pommel of her weapon. Her crimson eyes pierced into his even as she asked the question to the tribe as a whole.

"Vernal talked shit and got smacked," someone called out. More laugher echoed it, and Raven's lips slowly curved up into a pleased smile.

"Is that so? Perhaps she'll learn a valuable lesson from this then. You." Raven pointed to him. "From the boy Taiyang brought no less. He did say you could defend yourself. I'm pleased to see that wasn't an exaggeration."

"He's an unarmed fighter," someone said. "Some kind of Mistral martial artist."

"Is that so? And yet you suffer under Roland."

Jaune shrugged, not really wanting to explain how he'd pulled it off. "I want to learn to use the sword," he said. "Even if I'm not that good with it now."

"Admirable. With me." Raven turned, waving for him to follow. "Let us have words."

/-/

Raven's tent was spacious on the inside, circular with curtains hung up to make divides and cut off sections like rooms. There were piles of cushions to one side, a keg to another, and small chests for her belongings, along with several spare weapons and some armour hooked nearby. Near the centre, a wooden table had been set with a bench on either side. Raven pointed and he took a seat, accepting the wooden flagon she dipped into a barrel and handed to him. She took one for herself, drank deeply and sat opposite him.

"So," she said, wasting no time. "Taiyang tells me you intend to leave us come spring."

Jaune nearly choked on the ale. Taiyang told her? That bastard. "I-It's not decided yet."

"You're welcome to." Raven waved his concerns off. "You're not one of us and owe us nothing. No one shall impede your path if you choose to leave. That you stay here at all is a favour to Taiyang, and you've earned your place well enough. Stay, go, it's your choice. The tribe is not so hard up for competent warriors that I'd care to force you one way or another."

That was a relief. Jaune took another drink, slowly this time.

"Taiyang has told me a little about you," she said. "He speaks well of you. I prefer to judge a man by his actions, and you fight well enough."

"Yang would disagree," he said.

"Hah!" Raven barked a laugh. "If my daughter fell to a boy without training, she and I would be having words at sword point. You get up. You keep fighting. The rest will come with time, but those that stay down are worthless to me. Tell me, where will you go once you leave us? Do you have a destination in mind?"

"Not yet…"

"Taiyang implied you were looking for somewhere to settle and that you are running from something. I won't ask what," she said when he tensed up. "Your secrets are yours. But you are trying to find a place where you can settle down, no? A place where you can escape whatever hunts you and live a normal life. A life not as a bandit."

He'd thought she was about to suggest staying with them until the last bit. Jaune nodded his head. "Yeah. It's not as easy as I thought. Are you saying you know a place?"

"Without knowing what you flee from and why, I cannot, and what good relations would a bandit like I have to send with you?" She grinned. "No, you'll want to keep your association with us quiet wherever you end up. But finding such a place? That might not be as simple a matter as you think. A man could search forever without finding what he's looking for."

Didn't he know it. They weren't so far from Ansel and Moss Creek that he could realistically be out the church's grasp, and it would only get worse come spring when news of his suspicious behaviour spread. He'd put thought already into leaving Vale entirely and taking a ship to Mistral, Vacuo or Atlas, but it was just ideas for now. Which would he choose? Why? Where would he go? There were far too many questions and far too few answers.

"You're going to need coin as well," she said. "You won't get far without any to spend, let alone book travel. Paths have a tendency of opening up to those with a little silver to throw at a problem. I may have a proposition for you." Raven said. She leaned back. "No banditry involved. All fully within the law, I assure you. Taiyang is going to be taking part, as will a few others of mine. Roland would have but for his injury. He's suggested you in his place."

He didn't like the sound of that. "Are we talking mercenary work? In the middle of winter?"

"First week of spring actually, and not mercenary. Tell me. Have you ever visited the capitol?"

"Vale? No."

"Then you wouldn't know that they host a tournament each and every spring," she said. "To get people's spirits up after the cold winter or so they say. There are numerous things to enter in. Jousting, archery, the like. Those have their little rewards, but the real prize comes from the grand melee – a free-for-all where hundreds enter and only one walks out. The last man standing can walk away with a bucket of gold."

"You want me to enter a death battle?"

"Few die," she said. Not none, but few. "Accidents happen but it is not intended to the death. There are two rounds – male and female. No man can hope to hold up to a woman with aura, after all."

"Do you enter in the women's?"

"I plan to." Raven's smile turned predatory. "It's a risk for bandits like us to go to the city but we've made an agreement with a nearby village this year. They will claim us their own, give us legitimacy. In return, we share a portion of the winnings and, more importantly, have agreed that they shall never be raided by us."

"Do you intend to keep that deal?"

"Of course I do." She looked annoyed to be questioned on it. "My word is as good as my sword. No one would trust me else. Win or lose, we'll hold fast to our agreement. The reason we need a village, aside from an excuse, is that the Chosen like to pick promising women from their side of the melee."

"But if you're not at the village when they go to try and test you, they'll not be able to."

"Aye. You're getting it. My daughter and I will be entering the grand melee together along with a few others. Taiyang and Qrow will be in the men's side. There are no rules about banding together early – nobles try it often enough – and a group of fighters working in concert will cut through all the rowdy, amateurs risking it on their own. Once it's only ours left, we can fight or forfeit however we wish so one of us wins. The prize to be split among all that participated, with a little skimmed off the top for the tribe."

It honestly didn't sound like a bad plan. If they entered ten or more people, they could cover each other's backs and hold a position, let the rest of the people wear themselves out. They wouldn't be the only ones trying such, but a tribe of bandits was nothing if not used to fighting. They'd have a decent shot at going far in this.

He could also see why she wanted him involved. It wasn't his skill, but the fact he could be another man holding the shield wall. Since the competition was split male and female, she needed decent numbers for both sides. Taiyang and Qrow were good, and Roland would have been too but for his injury. He might not be fit for combat in time.

"You wouldn't need to do much," she said. "Listen to Qrow and Taiyang. Hold your shield up and cover their backs. Let them do the hard work. But who knows - you might be able to hold your own if what I've seen is true. And once it's all over and done with, assuming we win, you can walk away with enough coin to see your path eased."

The money would help but going so close to the city was dangerous beyond belief. That was where the Church and Chosen would be. Then again, there would be huge crowds of people, and it's unlikely my face or name would reach Vale that quickly. Even so, it was risky enough that he didn't much like the idea.

"I don't know." He saw her frown and explained, "The people I'm trying to get away from are in Vale and they're… well, they're powerful. I'm worried going there will put me in even more risk."

"You could tell me who it is."

Jaune shrugged and didn't answer.

"Fair enough," she said. "What I can say is that if you'll be surrounded by people that also need to keep our identities hidden. Vale will be swarming with newcomers for the tournament. Many do so under masks, harping themselves up as mysterious knights or some such. If you wanted, you could get away with wearing a helmet the whole time. I've seen it done before."

That'd make it safer for him, but he'd still be in the middle of Vale. It's just not worth the risk.

"Not enough?" she guessed. "Fine – then how about something a little more unique, hm? Every twenty years, the tournament is a little special. There's a little something extra up for grabs. It's why we're taking the risk this year when we haven't others."

"Something special?"

"Aye. An artifact. A relic." Raven leaned forward and tapped her fingernails on the table. "Legend has it there are four relics the Eternity Queen used to defeat and seal away Ozma forever."

"I-Is that so?" Jaune felt sweat run down his face, but Raven didn't seem to know. Taiyang hadn't told her that at least. "What does that have to do with this?"

"Only that one of those relics is put up as the prize every twenty years. The Relics are magical. Real magic," she stressed. "Each is different, and each has its own tricks and rules, but this years is especially interesting. They call it the Relic of Knowledge."

"Jinn…"

Jaune licked his lips. "And what does it do?"

"You can ask it three questions. Three questions, and get three perfect answers, so long as they're not answers related to the future. No prophecy. It can only answer three every hundred years and used to be that the Eternity Queen kept them for herself, using them to best the Dark Lord. Given her strength and past success with that though, she's taken to handing it out. I guess she doesn't need them anymore. It's the prize for the men's side of the grand melee."

"Why the men's?"

"Because whomever wins the women's is expected to join the Chosen and so is already loyal to the Eternity Queen. At least that's what they expect. I've a deal with my men," she said. "Money is split equally, questions the same. The winner gets one question if they want it, the rest get sold."

"Sold? And why wouldn't they want to ask it something?"

"Because knowledge is power, child, and the rich will pay dearly for it. I could ask it what villages are ripe with loot, but would they really be any richer than what a noble would pay to have the relic? It's perfect knowledge. They could use it to usurp titles, beat bitter rivals or more, and they'll pay through the nose to have it. Far more than we could earn in any raid."

Of course. Knowledge was useful only to those who could make the best use of it. Unless there was a convenient stash of buried gold somewhere, Raven would be better off selling access to the questions rather than using them herself. "I take it the winner gets the money from one of them?"

"If they don't use the question, yes. I'm a fair woman. You, however, well, that's your choice, but I imagine you might have a question you'd like an answer to."

"Oh? What would that be?"

"What village can I settle down in that is far out the reach of my enemies, and that would accept me joining them to live a normal life." Raven finished with a coy smile, leaving Jaune stunned. He hadn't even thought of that, but it was the exact answer he needed. "I can't answer that question myself, and you could spend the next forty years of travel trying to find such a place. Or…" she said, "You could enter the grand melee with us and have a shot at getting the answer magically delivered to you. And even if you fail to best Taiyang or Qrow, you at least get a share of the winnings. Enough to see you safely on your search. Who knows, Taiyang might even be willing to sell you his question cheap. He owes you his life after all."

Could I actually win it? I wouldn't have a chance normally, but we're already planning to work together to get through the first stages. I doubt I could beat Taiyang or Qrow normally, but if I tapped into the Dark Lord's instincts like I did against Vernal…

It would be a risk, a big risk, but he'd have an immediate destination and answer as to where he could hide. It would solve all his problems in one fell swoop.

"You have until the first of spring to decide." Raven said. "Train with Roland, speak with him. If your identity worries you, offer him a small share of the prize money to borrow his armour and hide your face. No one will care enough to know. Bastard sons, criminals and more enter this and they all cover their faces."

"I'll think about it." Jaune said. "And talk with Taiyang."

Raven nodded, leaned back and finished her drink. Jaune took the invitation for what it was, downed his and walked out the tent. He'd have to think long and hard about her offer, and luckily he had a few weeks left to do so.

There we go

Next Chapter: 1st May

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