Notice:

There will be no updates from 13th – 19th June inclusive of both days. I'm away at an expo and stuck going out with clients pretty much every night. Going to be exhausted, overworked and drunk or hungover whenever I'm not. I'll be back 20th June to write as normal.

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 20

Sparring with a Huntress as the Dark Lord. Jaune didn't need Ozma's warnings to know this was a bad idea. And yet, what was he supposed to say? No? Refuse on the spot and leave Pyrrha wondering why? He probably could have and explained it away as deep-seated awe or religious aversion to harming one of the Goddess' own chosen, but that hadn't occurred to him in the brief window of opportunity after Pyrrha made her offer. In all honesty, the only thing that had was thinking how happy she sounded at the idea, and how much it would upset her if he said no.

He'd never been strong enough to say no. Dimly, he wondered if that wasn't because of how few people other than his family included him before; some lingering desire to fit in and be involved. Whatever the case, after agreeing, he found himself being led deeper into the city, toward a tall, spired building with stained-glass windows depicting the Goddess in all her glory. Some even showed her standing, sword raised, over a defeated figure wreathed in stylised shadow. Her first defeat of the Dark Lord Ozma and the beginning of what some called the Golden Age.

Jaune almost expected to hear Ozma speak up against that, but he remained quiet, as he had ever since Pyrrha made the offer. Maybe he was afraid or somehow pushed down by Pyrrha's holy presence. There was no telling. Pyrrha didn't lead him into the church building, much to his relief, but around the back of it to a small, enclosed area of dirt and grass set behind a low wooden fence and a tall, green hedge. The grass was worn in places suggesting regular footfall.

"Is it okay for me to be here?" he asked.

"Of course." Pyrrha smiled brightly and picked up two wooden swords from a nearby rack and tossed one to him. They were darker than the wood he was used to seeing back home. Some foreign tree. Jaune ran his hand over it, noting the smoothness and the lacquer. "Most of the church is a public building. Only the inner cloisters are exempt to outsiders, and only because it's where we sleep. The training fields are by invitation. I'm inviting you."

"Then I won't be told off for being here?"

"Not if you're with me. Show me your guard stance."

Worrying about people watching was apparently over. Shrugging, he fell into the same stance his father had taught him, legs spread, toes planted, and knees slightly bent. His hands came low, holding the sword up and out, but mostly centre-body. There was something off about it. Used to wielding a spear, there ought to have been some weakness here or there, but his hips shifted in a manner he wasn't used to, drawing on knowledge not his own in a way that felt uncomfortable, like he was unused to it.

"That's… good." Pyrrha sounded as surprised as he looked. "That's a very natural stance. I'm a little surprised."

"Dad was a mercenary."

"You said before." Her smile returned, dancing in her eyes. "I suppose it makes sense he'd drill proper stance into you. Goddess knows, our instructors wouldn't shut up about it with us either. You're going to cramp up like that, however. Do you know how to take a relaxed stance?"

Jaune's brow creased. "Relaxed? In a fight?"

"I'm not attacking you now and sometimes your enemy will take their time. Try this." Pyrrha adopted much the same stance as he, practically a mirror-image. Was it that universal, or was this some Vale-specific form of fencing his father and she both used? The difference here was that instead of holding her sword forward and out, she'd tilted it back so that the blade was resting over her own shoulder, propped backwards with her left hand near the bottom of the hilt and gripping very loosely. "Do you see how I'm letting my body take the weight? I can still react quickly, though. Watch."

Her left hand pushed down, acting like a lever and spinning the sword forward over the point of balance so that it came up and facing out, falling naturally back into the same stance he'd had it in before. Really, the only motion was resting the sword against her shoulder and then bringing it forth, back into guard, but there was also a tiny drop to her knees as she did. Jaune didn't have much problem mimicking it.

"The point is to conserve your stamina," she explained. "A real fight can last a long time so every little helps. It's not so much a problem in the grand melee, but the one-on-one fights don't have much rest between them. You'll be expected to pace yourself over the whole tournament."

"It's all in one day?"

"It is. You can't expect us to make people pay for seating, gather in stands and watch two fights a day for three days," she said. "To say nothing of closing business down for national holidays for that long. You'll only get as long a rest as the other fights last – which could be not long at all if you're unlucky. The final has a two hour break before it, though. No one wants the biggest fight to be two exhausted men flailing limply at one another."

It was more likely to be him exhausted than anyone else sadly. The recent rounds had showed him just how far behind he was when it came to endurance. The tribe had been fighting for years now, and likely everyone else when reaching that stage. He'd also watched Adam fight and didn't fancy his odds outpacing, outlasting or outfighting him. No wonder Raven let me in so freely. She knows there's no chance I actually beat Taiyang or Qrow. All I can do is increase their odds of making it further. He thought he should be annoyed at that but instead he was impressed. Raven owed him nothing and hadn't promised him the Relic by any means. She'd just made it clear he could win it, but that the prize money for a lesser position was more likely.

Pyrrha had him practice the transition between relaxed and guard several times, adjusting his footwork here and there, and then challenged him to react quickly to her attacks. She would circle him slowly, making him turn while in the relaxed stance, and then attack suddenly. The first few times caught him completely off guard and ended with her wooden sword on his neck before he could properly get into a guard stance.

Once he managed that however, it still didn't change. Pyrrha would clash him with him and deflect his blade, or she'd come in for a swing, pull back at the last second and leave him parrying air, bringing her sword over or under to touch his neck again. The spar was as one-sided as he and Yang, and yet Pyrrha didn't rub his nose in the dirt – literally or figuratively – as Ruby's sister would have.

"Move your body as you block," she said. "You can't guarantee whether I'll feint or not, but if I swing left and you move right as you parry, it won't matter if I do because you'll be out the way. Try to keep your sword between your whole body and me."

She would pause, demonstrate and have him swing, then not only block, but also sidestep so that even had his sword gone through hers, he would have hit naught but air. Then, she reversed their positions and had him do the motion until he was side-stepping every time. Only then did she continue the fight and the lecture.

"Don't be static. You're not in a battleline when it's one on one. Don't be afraid to give ground as long as you're in control. It's silly to have the attitude that you should always move forward in a fight. Drawing your opponent in and out of their formation is a sure way to best them if you have allies. The same goes for you. You shouldn't chase someone down without asking yourself where you will end up once you do. It's even better if you can draw your opponent's sword with you."

As she said that, she hopped quickly back while pushing down on his blade with her own. It drew him with her a little, unbalancing him as his sword slid forward. He managed to catch himself, but not before her sword came to gently rest against his neck again. Pyrrha smiled brightly the whole time, and Jaune found himself grinning ruefully back. This kind of gentle training felt more like what his father had put him and his sisters through. Advice, demonstration, application. Compared to the Branwen tribe, who practiced a school of hard knocks and pain, then coupled it with a social hierarchy designed to keep people at odds. The difference was in the time they had to train someone, he supposed. Pyrrha was a Chosen Huntress, and so her instructors must have been prepared to spend years perfecting her. A youngling in the tribe had to be ready to raid the moment they hit adulthood.

After an hour of training, Jaune's arms began to feel numb, and his swings slowed. It didn't help that he still wore his mail around his shoulders and body. Pyrrha noticed, called a halt and led him to the outer church wall where she drew a pale of crystal clear water from a clay pot. Jaune drank of it, then splashed a little more on his face, while she drew another and sipped.

"You're good," he panted. "Too good."

"I wasn't always. I've been at this since I was twelve. That's six years of training."

"Eighteen. Same age as me."

"Is it?" Pyrrha smiled. "If we'd lived in the same village, we might have been friends."

He doubted it. Had he lived anywhere with his nightmares and visions as a child, the locals would have found him wrong and warned their children away. Pyrrha might be sweet now, but that was a culmination of her upbringing and teaching. Had she been raised the same as everyone else in Ansel, he doubted she'd smile at him this way. No fault to her. Children believed what their parents taught them, especially in their younger years. What else were they to believe? Ansel wasn't large enough to have a real school. Children were taught by parents first, village elders second and by craftsmen if they were apprenticed to one last of all.

A nearby wooden door opened with a creak and shut with a clack. Jaune turned along with Pyrrha to see an old woman with greying hair step out. The woman paused on seeing them, eyes narrowing first on him before turning to Pyrrha and closing in a slow blink.

Pyrrha bent her knees and dipped low. "Huntress Superior Goodwitch."

"Pyrrha." The woman inclined her head briefly. "And this young man…?"

"Jaune Arc." Pyrrha introduced him. "A villager who aided me in the task you gave us to investigate the caves by Ansel. He led Cinder and I to them, assisted us in searching them and then led us back. He was almost killed by a Grimm for his troubles."

The woman's green eyes closed, and she pinched her nose. "You could have simply named him, Pyrrha. You are allowed to bring a man here and I was only asking."

"Forgive me."

"It is no…" The woman sighed. "Never mind. Training, are we?" Her eyes fixed on him and Jaune froze. They didn't look judgmental, but there was a cold intellect all the same, and he feared for a moment she would see right through him. "Do you compete in the spring festival, Arc?"

"Y-Yes. I'm entering the latter rounds and Pyrrha offered me some advice."

"You're in the final rounds as a village boy?"

"His father was a mercenary." Pyrrha said.

"Is that so?" Goodwitch tapped her chin and looked him up and down again. Her eyes narrowed on his head. "Arc, you say. Any relation to Nicholas Arc?"

Jaune blinked. "You know my father?"

"Ah, so you are Nicholas' boy." The woman smiled suddenly. It wasn't a friendly smile, more a knowing or self-satisfied one. "Yes, I knew him. I had the pleasure of fighting alongside him some twenty-five years ago. The Yellow Death, they called him. Quite the dramatic name, but his hair were quite easily distinguished on the battlefield."

The Yellow Death. It… Honestly, it sounded more like a horrifically infective disease than a warrior. Still, his father had a moniker like that which even a Huntress knew. He'd never realised just how big a deal his dad was. Then again, no one in Ansel talked about it, and it was possible only Mayor Cobbin knew. Or perhaps everyone had agreed not to talk about it since Nicholas had retired, and it just didn't matter after that.

"I'd heard he settled down to raise a family," she continued. "Good for him. Few mercenaries are smart enough to realise when it's time to hand up their weapons. The call of gold calls them to their graves. Nicholas was one of the intelligent ones. How fares he?"

"W-Well, lady Huntress," Jaune said. "He has seven daughters and me."

"Seven?" The woman looked… interested. That was odd. Most people reacted with shock and then a light chuckle when they heard how many kids his dad had. They'd then joke about him being a jackrabbit or something similar. The Huntress sounded more impressed, and even pleased. Her eyes slid from Jaune to Pyrrha, who shuffled on the spot. "Is that so? Powerful blood, it seems. There were no shortage of women at the time interested in him, but I suppose his heart lay elsewhere. I approve, Pyrrha," she said suddenly. "He comes from good stock."

"H-Huntress Superior," Pyrrha whispered. "It isn't like that…"

"No? But it could be. You are dutiful and he… well, I should away." The woman moved, brushing past Jaune with a tiny nod. "You are welcome here, Arc. I hope you will aspire to be as great as your father. And as productive."

"Um. I will?"

The woman chuckled. "Good. Good. Have a pleasant evening, you two."

"What was that all about?" Jaune asked once she was gone.

"I have no idea!" Pyrrha said quickly. Too quickly. "P-Perhaps we should call it there for the day," she stammered. "Y-Your companions must be wondering where you are and I… I have, um, things to do. Prayer. Vigil. Service."

"I understand. Thank you for the spar and the help, Pyrrha. Hopefully, I'll be able to put it to good use in the tournament."

"Hopefully," she said, smiling awkwardly. "Though it is impressive enough to reach this far in your first ever, and the most competitive tournament to be had in a hundred years. No Relic is as harshly competed for as this, except perhaps the Relic of Creation, and that won't be recalled for another sixty years. You should be proud of whatever standing you achieve."

He should be, but this would all be a waste if he didn't at least get in the top four for the bigger monetary pay-out. "I'll be trying to win it anyway."

"Then I will cheer for you," she promised with a wide smile. "Look for me in the Church stands."

/-/

Pyrrha led him back to the gates and out and then left him on his own to make his way back to the tribe's tents. He was caught there by Ruby, who looked furious. "Where were you!?" she almost shrieked. "We were worried sick!"

"I was inside the city." He saw her anger mounting. "Someone I knew from Ansel, a Huntress that came before you and Taiyang did, came to see me."

"A Huntress!" she hissed. "Do I have to tell you how bad an idea it was for you to go with them? You of all people!?"

"No. I just… What was I supposed to say?"

"That you were busy," Ruby growled. "Ugh. Dad and I looked everywhere for you. We thought you'd been kidnapped or killed by some noble for knocking their forces out the tournament. Even Yang agreed to look for you."

"I'm sorry. I didn't realise."

The apology didn't get him out of trouble. Ruby dragged him back to the tents and the message was soon sent. Taiyang looked pleased to see him, Yang pissed off at her wasted time, and Raven more irritated with the drama than anything else. Either way, he was forced to sit down and not offered any food. That wasn't much of a problem since he'd eaten a far better meal inside the walls, but he didn't up and say that.

"There has been a development since you were gone." Raven said. "One you had best know. I have spoken with Sienna Khan and the White Fang, and we have come to an agreement. They will buy a question on the Relic from us. They offer less than a noble would, but they will ensure as many of us reach the final rounds as possible. Furthermore, they'll offer a few more concessions on top that you likely don't want to hear about."

Raiding concessions. Jaune grimaced and wondered what the White Fang were giving – information on poorly defended villages, agreements to let the Branwen tribe get away with pillaging or something else. Either way, Raven was making it clear it was none of his business. The only reason he was being told at all was so that he didn't ruin it by attacking Adam or any other faunus.

"There's another problem," she continued. "Just as we have made an alliance with them, rumour has it several dukes have made one of their own and are now sponsoring some of the other combatants."

"Weren't they before?"

"The clever and rich nobles don't waste money entering teams when they can wait to see who reaches the end and buy their loyalty then. The amount of coin changing hands is vast." Her lips pulled into a sneer. "One such approached me last night."

"A noble?"

She rolled her eyes. "A messenger. Offered us fifteen thousand gold to throw in favour of their champions."

Fifteen thousand!? Jaune almost choked on the figure. "Why didn't you accept?"

"You clearly don't understand the value of the relic. Fifteen thousand is a piss-poor offer. You could earn that much or more per question. The White Fang are offering twenty and more for a single question." She snorted. "The problem is that others won't see it the same way. You should expect the entire melee stage to be arrayed against you. Everyone else knows," she added. "You would have as well had you not vanished into the city."

Jaune grumbled another apology that the woman waved off without a care. Raven hadn't moved a muscle to search for him and likely wouldn't have cared if he never returned beyond his weakening their position in the tournament.

"What are we going to do then?" he asked. "Do we make more alliances or try and fight it out?"

"The latter. Let the White Fang take the brunt of the casualties if it means more of you get through. They're fanatics and they'll consider it worth the pain if they can reach Menagerie; leverage that. Keep to your shieldwall and follow my brother's orders."

"More of the same then."

"It's worked for you so far, hasn't it? Qrow knows what he is doing."

That was all she had for him, and he was left to crawl back to his tent and lay down on the cushions while he recovered from training. Somewhere in the midst of it Taiyang came in to tell him with no small amount of amusement that Ruby was fuming but would probably forgive him come morning. Jaune waved his hand limply. It wasn't like he couldn't understand her concern; he'd have been equally panicked if she disappeared on them. It was just that there wasn't much more he could do other than say sorry. Sometimes that wasn't enough.

His thoughts were ahead anyway. The finals in the city would see him performing in front of so many people, and plenty from the Church of the Goddess as well. Any of those could identify him if he used so much as a drop of aura, and there'd be no escaping if they did. I thought I might be able to have an edge thanks to Ozma but it's not much use. Even if he could give me the skill to fight, everyone else already has that skill. At best I'd be on an equal level with them, but they're also fitter and stronger and more used to fighting.

Worse still, the advantage of his borrowed equipment wouldn't last much longer. The mail and helm had served him well against people with less or the same, but he'd be on the lower end now, with most other people in full plate or some combination of plate, mail and leather. If the nobles were willing to sponsor them with gold, they might also sponsor them with full armour and the best weaponry, too. It wouldn't be too hard to lend that out to their people and then call it back afterwards. He didn't really have much of a chance here. The best he could hope for was to get a gold prize and use that to fund his travels away from Vale and the Church.

"Victory would not be overtly difficult…"

Jaune froze. He was laid flat on his back with his hands behind his head, and it was thanks to the increasing regularity or Ozma's comments that he didn't freak out. Instead, he frowned and focused his thoughts inward. How? If I use aura, I'll be discovered in an instant.

"It would depend much on how it is used. Not all methods are obvious."

It was still too much of a risk. There would be loads of Chosen in attendance, and even the slightest chance of being noticed would become greater when he was under the scrutiny of a hundred or more pairs of eyes.

"Then another method." Ozma's honeyed voice whispered to him. "Without aura, without magic, using only skill gathered from ten thousand lifetimes. Heavy armour brings its own disadvantages. I could have you run rings around them."

Wouldn't that look suspicion in and of itself? He was a village boy. Sure, only Pyrrha would have an inkling of what he was and wasn't capable of, but if he started flipping and bouncing around like a Huntress, he'd stand out.

"Trust that it is in my best interests that you do not."

"You're surprisingly chatty today." Jaune snarked. "And sane. Why? You normally don't hold full conversations with me."

"The Relic."

Ozma wanted it…?

"Answers. Truth. Direction. You worship a false goddess."

"You would say that. And even if you're right, what of it? Rise up and fight her like every other Dark Lord you've inhabited? How's that been going? Oh right, constant failure. Constant death. It hasn't worked since history began."

"History is much longer than you realise. Tens of thousands of years ago it was I who reigned victorious, and she who struggled for eons to best me." There was a long silence. "Times change. The world changes. And yet so much remains the same. Trapped in an eternal war."

"Yeah, well, I don't want a part of your eternal war. I just want to be me."

There was no response. He heard the pained and muffled sounds deep in the back of his mind. Not sobbing, not crying, but the wild and quiet muttering of someone no longer paying attention to either the conversation or the world at large. What little sense he'd begun to make, and the longest discussion they'd ever had, appeared to have taxed the Dark Lord. Or bored him. Whatever reason it was that he now went ignored. Would it be possible, though? The difference between coming third and winning the Relic was now revealed to be an order of tens of thousands of gold coins. He could use that not only to travel, but to practically found a decently-sized village of his own if he wanted. More than that, he'd be able to use the Relic to find exactly where he ought to settle it, where the Church would never find him, and where he could live out his days in peace.

Anything less than first place and he would be casting the dice on his future and hoping he found somewhere safe, never knowing for sure if the Church wasn't on their way. It was tempting. The Dark Lord knew how to make it so that he couldn't stop thinking about it. He would have to make a decision. And soon. The next round of the grand melee was but a day away, and the world wouldn't wait for him to be prepared for it.

Kind of glad I avoided any Jubilee celebrations yesterday. I went to the shop for some dog food and there was a whole street party going on with people waving flags and just randomly singing stuff I didn't recognise. Not the anthem, just… random crap. Like hymns or carols in June for crying out loud. Someone even forced a hand-held flag on me despite me saying it'd just go in the trash and end up as waste.

I love this weird "let's not make litter" and "let's wave pointless little flags around for one day and then bin them". Couldn't we just wave our phones with a picture of a union jack on the screen or something? We live in a digital age and at least that wouldn't make for landfill waste. Maybe I'm just a miserable old fart lol. I just know the bins across the whole country are going to be filled with red, white and blue, and can't help but think it's a waste of money when I saw bunting being sold for £10 in store! £10 for some tiny little triangular flags on string. I swear I could probably make some of similar quality using some thread, paper and some pen or paint.

I respect the queen in a sort of "You've been really professional and managed to not be an asshole for 70 years despite your wealth and power - that's impressive and worthy of respect" kind of way; same can't be said for others in the family. Cough, Andrew, cough. Some people are weird on the worship angle though, and I heard a priest on tv say she was a stand-in for God, which, well, I'm not religious at all but that still sounds kinda sacrilegious and cringe.

Next Chapter: 12th June

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