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.

That means next update will be three weeks.

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 21

The city on the day of the final round of the spring festival was far different from the city of just a day prior. Streamers and pennants hung from windows and doorways in shades of green and gold, and huge stands constructed of wood and lined with brightly coloured cloth had been set up around a rectangular-shaped arena flanked on each side by a wooden fence. The stands covered three sides of it with the last laid bare and it was that which most of Vale's citizens filled.

The other three rose taller above the action for a better view and were obviously reserved for wealthy merchants or nobles. It was easy to tell which was the most prestigious by the golden charms and flags flying in the wind, but the other two didn't look so dissimilar. The one to the left of the arena was a contrasting black and blue, while its opposite number across the sandy pits bore red and white. They were already full to the brim, with well-dressed children dangling their arms and miniature flags over the front rows while parents sat behind chatting, drinking or closely inspecting the competitors as they were walked in slow circles around the inside of the arena, performing laps with arms hefted to the cheers and, in some cases, jeers of the crowd.

Never had Jaune felt like so much of a show horse. It was all too clear they were the entertainment expected to sweat and bleed for the betters. No one else seemed to mind. It was men and women both here, and Yang lapped up the attention, turning and raising both hands, clapping them together and smiling wildly at the audience. Her mother clucked her tongue and shook her head, less amused but still pleased in a quiet way to be there. Why not? So many had made it from both the men's and women's sides of the tournament from the Branwen tribe that she had reason to celebrate. It would be much harder now, especially with the news that many of the men's competitors were picking sides and forming alliances. It wouldn't surprise him if the women's side did as well. There might be no Relic for them, but the prize money was reason enough to bend the rules.

It felt odd to him that despite the crowds cheering and treating them like celebrities, they had been escorted through the city like felons. Men-at-arms flanked them every step of the way, and the crier who had announced their entry had warned them all outside that should they try to slip away, they would be hunted down and expelled from the city, if not arrested. And that if they dared raise a weapon against a citizen, they would lose a hand. It was a stark and cruel warning and yet no one else acted like it was out of sorts. Given the kinds of people who got this far, knights in the employ of the nobles excluded, he wasn't sure if it wasn't a reasonable warning. They had to have some suspicion that not everyone here was on the right side of the law.

Since entering, they had been escorted directly to the arena past throngs of citizens and many more men-at-arms ready to hold them back. Even now, while they were cheered and adored, soldiers watched with eagle eyes. It was enough to make him worry they might know something, either about Ozma or the Branwen tribe, but there was nothing he could do now but walk behind Qrow and in front of Taiyang, his helmet tucked under his arm, looking at all the fancily dressed people vying for their attention. Women had even taken to throwing handkerchiefs into the area, and Qrow had gone so far as to stoop, pick one up and hold it aloft to much excited screaming.

There was no way anyone would let a city girl leave with a bandit or anyone here, but it was a fantasy, he supposed, and a little lace must have been inexpensive to these people. It was hardly only the women, too. With so many strong and striking women here, people like Yang especially, there were more than a few men whistling and throwing roses.

"You can make extra money after the tournament if you do well." Raven had told them all this morning. "Parents will keep their daughters away, but older women and widows won't shy from a memorable experience, nor will bored and wealthy men at the thought of dominating such powerful women." He'd thought it a warning at the time, only to balk when she followed it up with, "The coin is good. Just remember I expect you outside the walls and ready to leave one hour after sunup tomorrow."

Bandits, he reminded himself. They didn't have much innocence left to give, and Taiyang didn't seem bothered by the thought of Raven letting some pompous noble have his way with her any more than she did the other way around. Ruby had eked a promise out of Yang not to sully herself like that and had been embarrassed when Yang pointed out that she hadn't been a maiden for two summers now. She'd laughed, ruffled Ruby's hair and told her not to worry so much. At least he'd been able to promise the flustered girl he wouldn't do something like that.

I'd want my first time to be special. Looking at all the hard-bitten and violent men and women around him, he supposed they'd never felt they had the time to be picky. It was like Taiyang had said; those that survived battle were so high on the rush of it that they'd thrown themselves into pleasure. Maybe if I didn't know if I'd survive one season to the next, I'd be less worried about it as well. All the more reason to leave the tribe behind. He couldn't live like that, and Ruby had made it clear she couldn't either.

A horn sounded long and low over the crowd, and the crier leading their many laps around the arena suddenly moved toward the centre, motioning for them to follow. He gestured wildly with his hands, "Women in front, men behind. Form two ranks." Jaune did as he was told, sliding in between Taiyang and Qrow as the women took a line in front of them. "All kneel!" the crier announced. "For her majesty, her Goddess, the Eternity Queen herself!"

What-?

"All kneel for Salem!"

Blood pounded in his ears loud enough to drown out all else. He knelt not by choice but because everyone else did and he couldn't dare to stand out. His head fell, shaggy hair uncut since autumn falling over his wide eyes and hiding them. She was here-? The Eternity Queen was here? His hands shook upon his knee, and he swallowed loudly, afraid to look yet wishing to all the same.

Why was she here? Why hadn't anyone warned him? This was the spring festival, true, but every Kingdom was going through spring. What had brought her to Vale specifically? Was it the Relic? The crowd drew silent, and a woman's voice rang out clarion clear and powerfully. Unbidden, his head tilted upward to take her in. White robes with golden trim, jewels in bright red, blue and green, and a white-gold crown settled nearly atop hair a pale golden yellow. From such a distance, as she stood on the stands at the highest point, he couldn't make out too much of her face, only that her skin was pale and clean and that her hands moved as she spoke, weaving patterns through the air.

A sense of numinous descended on him. He was afraid, of course he was, but before he'd found out he had the Dark Lord in him he'd been as devout and goddess-fearing as anyone in Ansel, and this was their patron deity. This was Salem, the Eternity Queen, who had ruled over Remnant for tens of thousands of years, and she was divine. There was an otherworldly power about her, an otherworldly beauty.

"Salem…"

Jaune's eyes bulged, and he stared down at the sand. Not now! Not now of all times.

"-brave souls who will fight for our entertainment." Salem continued, unaware, oblivious of his struggle. "That represent the eternal struggle between us and the Dark Lord, who has plagued our lands and harassed our people since time began."

"Kill her…" The Dark Lord's voice was feverish. Hysterical. Terrified. "Kill her."

No. No, he wasn't him. He wasn't like him. He wasn't going to raise an army and become like all the others. I'm not going to die a pointless death like every other Dark Lord. I won't!

"And know that today's prize for the bravest and most capable of all men here stands as mine own Relic, the Relic of Knowledge, that shall grant the true answer to any three questions provided they are not of the future. Fight bravely. Fight with honour. Fight with all that you have."

"I will kill you, Salem. I will."

No you won't! Jaune thought inwardly, clenching his teeth tight. I won't let you.

Another horn sounded and the city crier signalled for them to stand, and then for them to bow. Several of the armoured knights clasped their gauntlets to their chests and shouted, "For Salem!" in unison. Jaune made to do the same, wondering if he was supposed to, but since no one else among the Branwen tribe or even the White Fang did the same he let his hand fall.

"The women's grand melee shall begin first!" the crier announced. "All men shall leave the stadium. Combatants to me – collect your number and to the position indicated."

They were going to be randomised. Jaune caught Raven's annoyed expression even as he was ushered away with the other men. By forcing people to begin in different spots around the arena, they'd prevent the formations and battle tactics that dominated the earlier rounds and turn this into a free-for-all. And whatever they opted for here, they were definitely going to repeat in the men's. "Taiyang…"

"Do your best," he said over the roar of the crowd. "Get to us quickly. If you can't then fight as hard as you can."

That was of so little comfort…

/-/

Pyrrha waved again and sighed unhappily as she went unnoticed. To be fair, Jaune was busy being led out the arena and it was understandable he more shocked by sight of the Eternity Queen than herself. Still, she felt disappointment all the same.

"Is that him?" her friend and former classmate within the Church, Coco Adel, said. "He's alright, I guess. I was expecting a little more from the one to catch your eye."

"It's not like that." Pyrrha said for the umpteenth time. It was, as usual, all for naught. She would never dare accused Huntress Superior Goodwitch of gossiping, but she knew full well the other girls in the Church would. Who had found out, she didn't know, but since she'd taken Jaune to dinner and been in the city with him, it could have been anyone. The rumours were flying thick and fast now, and some had progressed so far that she was apparently with child already.

"Hmhm." Coco's tone showed how much she believed her. "I'm not surprised you'd think to take matters into your own hands. The Superiors have been pushy of late. They have with me as well."

"Despite your preferences? That's cruel."

"Our Duty to the Goddess above all," Coco recited. In turn, Pyrrha made the symbol of Salem against her chest and whispered the same. "The Superiors have made it clear I need not tie myself where my affections don't lie, but they've also made it clear the duty doesn't require affection. You need only lay with a man," she said coldly. "You need not enjoy it."

Pyrrha looked at her, aghast. She could not believe Goodwitch or any of the teachers she had grown to admire and respect in Vale would have said that. "Who told you that?"

"Huntress Superior Schnee."

"Ah." The visitor from Atlas and the one tasked with hunting down the Relic of Knowledge – thought hunting was a strong term. Apparently, the previous winner, a baron on the far edges, had handed it over without fuss. Not that any would dare cross Salem in such a manner. "I've heard rumours of her. That she's cold, harsh and fanatical."

"Isn't that Atlas in general?"

"I've heard she's worse."

"Yeah, well, can confirm." Coco laughed. "And here I thought she was beautiful when I first saw her, only for her to come out and say that." She sighed and ran a hand through her brown hair. "Not like I didn't already know it, but still, way to rub it in my face."

"What will you do?"

"I'll do my duty eventually. Goodwitch caught me after Winter shouted me out and took me aside." Coco smiled awkwardly. "Calmed me down, said no one would force me and that I had many years yet to think on it."

"Good. I've always admired her."

"Hmm. Me too. Harsh when she needs to be, there when you need her to be. Enough of me!" Coco said suddenly. "Is anything happening between your champion and you?"

"I've already said it isn't. He is leaving Vale after this." Pyrrha sighed. "I suppose I will not see him again."

"You know, there are a lot of women who take a combatant to bed after the tournament."

"Coco!"

"Just saying."

"Yes, well," Pyrrha flushed and tugged at her collar. "Say something else."

"Like what?"

"Like…" Pyrrha strained for a change of topic, her eyes roaming over the people around her. Like they so often did, they found themselves coming to rest on the Eternity Queen herself. The Queen, a Goddess given flesh, was magnificent and powerful, always the centre of attention. Few got to see her as closely as the Chosen did, however. It was always an honour. "Is it just me or does the Eternity Queen look disinterested in the festival?"

"Hmm?" Coco turned to look for a few moments. The melee had begun, and while the crowd were roaring and the clash of steel on steel echoed and rang out, Eternity Queen Salem sat with her elbow resting on the arm of her wooden throne, and her cheek upon her curled fist. Her green-blue eyes did look out over the battle, but it was without much excitement. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Can you blame her, though? How many tournaments like this has she seen before? Tens of thousands at least. And even bigger battles, some probably a lot more interesting. I'd be bored too after all that."

Was that it? The more Pyrrha watched, the more she thought Coco might have the right of it. Queen Salem was blinking incredibly slowly, closing her eyes for seconds at a time before opening them. It was obvious her attention wasn't on the arena before her. No one would dare criticise her for that of course – she was a Goddess and had far better things to do, and everyone knew she attended for their sakes, not her own. This was a chance to be seen, to remind the citizens of Vale that they were important and beloved, and soon after this she would depart again for another Kingdom, ever on rotation to be beheld in each kingdom of the realm. By now, an event like this must have been little more than a formality for her.

"Oh damn!" Coco leaned forward, focused on the fight once more. "Damn, she's fast!"

Pyrrha turned her gaze away from the queen and to the melee below. It hadn't been going long, and less than a fifth of the women were out. These were the better people now, the best of the best, and they wouldn't be taken down easily. It was always hard to watch a melee like this and get any real feel for it. Pockets of fighting had opened up, and women ran from one fight to another, chased one another, engaged and were backstabbed by others, while yet more tried to form formations and band up in little alliances. She much preferred the one-on-one rounds. They felt more intimate, and a far greater display of an individual's skill.

"Did you put coin on anyone?" Coco asked.

"No. You?"

"On the mother-daughter combo." Coco pointed.

Down in the arena, an older woman with hair as black as charcoal fought with a long red sword alongside a muscular blonde with a manic grin, wielding an axe and a splintered shield. Their hair might as well have been opposites, but their faces were so identical that it was impossible that they were not related. They fought well together, the older woman clearly pulling more weight, but also flicking her sword out to ward strikes away from her daughter. "The mother will get further in the singles," Pyrrha analysed. Her training had prepared her for such, and she felt certain of her assessment. "She's more controlled. The blonde is too wild."

"Hmmm." Coco had a wild look in her own eyes. "What I wouldn't give to be the meat in a sandwich between those two."

Pyrrha flushed and laughed at the same time. "You're incorrigible!"

"I have good taste, you mean."

"Then why don't you try and invite one or both to your bed after."

"As if. Look at them. Sexy, strong and confident. You know fill well some small-dick noble is going to pay them to act meek for him just to assuage his ego. Say he tamed the barbarians who fought in the arena." Coco spat it out, and Pyrrha knew there was more bite to that than simple jealousy.

Women were prized within the Eternity Queen's realm. The realm wasn't matriarchal, but it wasn't patriarchal either, and the presence of the Eternity Queen, not to mention the Chosen, had ensured that women had in some cases more power than men. It wasn't uncommon for a first-born male to be overlooked for inheritance in favour of a female. That left many men harbouring… unfavourable sentiment. You didn't so much see it in the common folk or the merchants who enjoyed the equality, but those bitter at being passed up for being born the wrong gender often took what chances they had to get back at people, even if it was only by fantasy and virtue of paying a woman to cower before them.

It wasn't always that bad but then the alternative wasn't always better either. There were similarly those who sought the honour of bedding a Huntress seeing it as a way to be closer to the Goddess, or simply as a badge of honour to lord over others. Seeing as the Adel family were, to Pyrrha's knowledge, lesser nobles, she expected Coco had seen her fair share of jealousy and anger from the people around her.

Alas, she couldn't smile and urge Coco to try anyway because it was simple fact that the women down there would receive far grander offers. The men, too. She wasn't deaf to several of the Huntresses around them crooning over the blonde – thankfully not Jaune – and several other knights. Like Coco, they'd find themselves hard pressed to win a night with them when widows with coffers and gold to spare, and no husband to warm their beds, existed. She had heard stories of powerful women hosting parties with former champions, washing the victor down and then… well…

The rest didn't bare thinking about.

"I guess we'll both be alone tonight," Pyrrha said.

"Speak for yourself, I intend to drown my sorrows in that cute barmaid."

"The one you made a fool of yourself over? Ah yes, I certainly remember that."

"Ah shut up!" Coco laughed good-naturedly. "You can tease me when you come out your shell and take your boytoy to bed. Until then, I don't want to hear it."

Pyrrha chuckled and let Coco go back to watching the fight, or more specifically her crushes among them. Pyrrha watched for a moment as well, at least long enough to see several more fall, but her eyes once again found themselves slipping back to the Eternity Queen on her wooden throne. The woman's eyes were closed, her breathing even. Had she fallen asleep?

I guess it really must be boring for her…

/-/

The women's grand melee was nail-biting to watch not because of who was in it, but because Jaune expected it to be much the same for them. Before, the rounds had been over quickly and easily decided by teamwork, tactics and formations. Not here. Some people worked together but everyone was well-trained, armed and armoured, and so much of what he was seeing depended on raw skill or experience. Or plain old luck. Raven and Yang had been positioned close to one another at the start and quickly formed up. As a result, they made it through the group stages, with many in the audience cheering, clapping or ringing bells and wooden clackers in the air.

It was still minutes until they were brought out. Defeated women had to be carted away, some bleeding and carried to tents for healing but more, he noticed, taken to a forge set up with a blacksmith working on it.

"A good dent to your helmet can lock it in place," Qrow said, "Especially if it's a full plate helm. Plate has a nasty habit of denting in ways that prevent you getting it off." He snorted. "Then again, those hit hard enough to dent a helmet would probably be dead without it so I'm sure they're not too unhappy."

A horn was sounded, and two men-at-arms came to draw them into the arena. Jaune swallowed his fear – this wasn't to the death, he told himself, but it did so little. The people would still see him as the weakest here, the obvious target to take out. Qrow and Taiyang wouldn't face nearly as much attention as he. I need to get to one of them as soon as possible. Teamwork is my way through this.

The bright sunlight shone down on them again as they marched out into the sand to fresh applause. The gambling began anew, though the largest bets wouldn't be placed until the one-on-one rounds, he was sure. The fine sand set about the arena was bloodied in places, but brightly dressed youths dragged wooden rakes across it, turning the sand over and burying it to clean the evidence away.

"To me!" the crier called out. "You will be drawn a token from this bag." He shook the purple, velvet bag and a sound like wooden blocks rattled clonked and clinked inside. "The symbol upon it will register to a post around the arena wall. This will be your starting position. You are to touch the post until the horn is sounded. Am I understood? Anyone who defies this ruling will be disqualified. Now, form a line."

It was a rudimentary line at best, with shuffling and fighting to reach the front. He wasn't sure what advantage the knights felt that would convey, but he let them take their tokens first and came forward toward the end. As he did, the crier's eyes met his, narrowing slightly before he smiled and ushered him forward.

"And you, young sir, your token shall be…" He shoved his hand into the bag and rummaged around, loudly knocking wooden pieces left and right. "Ah. Your symbol is the horse." He proffered the token, a rectangle of wood with an ink depiction of a stylised horse running upon it. "Over in the far corner I believe." He pointed. "Good luck to you."

Jaune turned to follow the man's finger and felt his heart drop. He couldn't have been further away from Taiyang and Qrow if he tried, the three of them practically equidistant from one another now. To the left of the spot, a man in full plate with a huge shield, a sword and a mace was loosening his arms with gentle swings. On the right, another stood, his tabard the same blue and red checkers of the first. They were allied – or hired by the same lord – and he was stuck right between the two of them.

"You've been cheated…"

"What…?" Jaune's voice was quiet, and easily missed with the sound of the crowd. "What do you mean?"

"The crier held a token within his hand, pushed that into the bag and drew it." The Dark Lord's voice was low and monotonous, and Jaune glanced back suspiciously. The crier was welcoming the next combatant. It was hard to say if he tried anything or not, but Jaune noticed that the hand he put into the bag was open now. It hadn't been for him. "You have been placed far apart from your allies, as they have from one another. Meanwhile, those two have been put next to one another. That is no accident."

The crier had been bribed. It wasn't hard to imagine why or whom by – the Relic of Knowledge was worth a staggering amount of money. Honestly, he was less surprised and more annoyed that he hadn't suspected this earlier. "Some noble financing those two?"

"Likely."

"What do I do?"

"Trust in me."

"You!?" Jaune balked and kept his head down, approaching the post while the two knights leered at him like he was some pretty tavern maid about to be cornered by horny soldiers. They certainly intended to work him over like one. "You can't be serious," he hissed. "You're the Dark Lord. Unless you haven't noticed, use any aura or magic here and every Chosen in the Kingdom will come down on our heads. The Eternity Queen, too!"

"All the more reason to believe in me. It serves me – us – no purpose to be captured here."

Him. Not us. Jaune scowled and touched a gloved hand to the post, his other loosening and tightening around Crocea Mors. The Dark Lord had a point; it wasn't likely he'd try anything surrounded by Chosen like this. He was powerful, yes, an evil wizard famous for his destructive magics, but there was a reason the Dark Lord raised armies to challenge the Church, and a good reason he'd lost to the Eternity Queen time and time before. If he couldn't best her at the head of an army, he shouldn't try it here alone. It would be suicide.

"Have faith in me."

"How can I? Seriously, how can I?"

"No aura. No magic. Only your body moving by my hand."

Jaune licked his dry lips. His eyes scanned over the audience. He wasn't under any more focus than anyone else, and certainly not the Eternity Queen, who looked like she wasn't paying any attention at all. Still, what if she could sense the Dark Lord's power? What if by using him here, she was alerted?

"It does not work that way. You could walk before her, and she would not know. The time for discussion is ending." The crier handed out the last of the tokens and the final combatant took their position. There were more Knights than not, with Adam being by far his closest ally a good ten more people away! There was no way he could fight through ten trained and armoured enemies to reach him. "You can surrender your chances at prize money or the Relic, or you can allow me to guarantee both. Tens of thousands of years of knowledge lay in my mind. Not all of it is magic."

"Good luck, kid," the knight to his left sounded. The man smiled, and it wasn't an overly cruel smile, but it did make clear the expectation to come. His gauntlet came up to flip his faceplate down, sealing his helm shut. He stooped, picked up his shield and rolled his shoulders with a clink of heavy metal. His voice came out tinny and echoing. "You did well to get this far. No hard feelings."

"They will both be upon you the moment the horn sounds."

He knew that! It was so bloody obvious!

"On this day!" the crier called, "Under the gaze of the Eternity Queen and the august men and women of Vale, the grand melee begins!" His hand rose, the audience's voices rising with it, and then it fell.

A long horn blasted through the air.

"Fine!" Jaune snapped, eyes clenched shut. "Do it!"

Why the Huntress trying to pass on their bloodlines thing? It's meant to be an opposite reflection of Ozpin's methods when he runs Remnant in canon compared to Salem. Ozpin is also very big on having as many huntsmen/huntresses as possible, but he does so by inspiring people, making the academies desirable and also probably by doing a lot behind the scenes like making the culture very pro-huntsmen and making sure their wages are super high to attract more, etc. Basically, Ozpin does his best to bolster the ranks of his greatest assets against Salem via making the choice to become a huntress/huntsman as attractive as possible. Free will.

Salem is in his position here, but you can see marked differences in how she inspires people. Devotion, worship and duty. Sure, Chosen are still very admired and culturally respected, but Salem is a lot more "You shall do this" whereas Ozpin is more "Let me convince you to do this".

Since a large portion of this story's premise is the idea of Ozpin and Salem's roles being reversed in terms of who is running Remnant and who is fighting from the shadows and darkness, little things like this are important. Same as how Ozpin absolutely pushed for technological advancement whereas Salem has kept the world in the middle ages, or how Ozpin is very hands off and happy to let the kingdoms rule themselves independently, whereas Salem demands everyone worship her and rules over them directly.

Ofc, we as the readers know things like how men absolutely can unlock aura – anyone can. Everyone has it, same as in canon. But Salem has driven that information down and made everyone believe only women can. Not because of any inherent sexism in her, but because she knows Ozpin won't be reborn as a woman (as far as we know) and thus it's safer for her this way. Plus, demonising male aura usage is a good way to act as an alarm system for her. Anyone sees a man using aura, they freak out and alert the Church and she swoops down. This has had knock-on effects Salem likely never intended however, such as a more matriarchal society with female-led inheritance.

Stuff like that wasn't really felt or seen in a tiny village like Ansel of course, but in a major city? Well, there are subtle differences, such as Pyrrha being fully expected and even accepting herself that she should be the one to court and ask a man out. I wouldn't go so far as to say women are dominant and men are submissive – that's too far – but some cultural expectations are flipped around. For instance, if Jaune did marry Pyrrha he would be expected to take the name Jaune Nikos, or Jaune Nikos-Arc if they chose to adopt both names.

Next Chapter: 26th June

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