Chapter. 1
Dear Fellow Traveler
Jaune of Arc – former Paladin of the Order of Eternal Devotion and lowly Infantryman during the Great War – found himself in the newly formed Kingdom of Atlas upon the continent of Solitas.
Jaune was a broad shouldered man who stood at a height of six and a half feet, with a brawny build and a diamond shaped face. His feathery, straw blonde hair was tied into a low ponytail with his bangs falling loosely around his face and ending at his chin – which itself was covered by a newly grown beard – with his steely, cerulean, blue eyes shifting around constantly, in constant search of danger – whether real or imagined.
Even from this distant shore, he could see the floating island that housed Atlas Academy of the Arcane Arts – which itself was surrounded by Castle Atlas and the rest of the Atlasian Nobility.
After fighting during the later years of the Great War, when the fighting was at it's most inhumane, then wondering aimlessly for only the Gods know how long, even these harsh and frigged lands are a welcomed sight for the world weary Knight.
Jaune threw a quick glare towards Atlas Academy before stepping off one of the new metal Dust run ships, one of the few good things to come out of the war.
Jaune scratched his beard and thought with a sigh. "I might have to shave soon, last thing I need is lice crawling on all over my face."
He made for an interesting sight, with his scared and dull Gothic Half Plate armor – with knee-high greaves covering his legs, and showing off the brown trousers her wore, and a cuirass that covered his chest and upper-back with full arm and hand protection with chain maille jacket covering any and all gaps in his armor – with an old, tattered, Valen style, olive drab greatcoat covering his equally abused armor. His full-faced Sallet style helm rested in the crook of his right arm with his left resting upon the pommel of his sheathed sword.
Jaune's boots crunched through the freshly fallen snow as he made his way to Gehen Station, a station located at the Southwestern-most part of Solitas that was built to house the newly invented "Dust Locomotive Train". Once there, Jaune laid his eyes upon the great, big, metal monstrosity known as a "Train".
For a flash of a moment, Jaune was transported back to the Vacuoan Front, where battle fitted trains charged headlong upon tracks laden with corpses, with their spiked armor and sixteen pound guns. But the moment passes, and a simple cylindrical metal tube with three chimney shoots and a conductors box upon the tube's end appears in its stead, hauling various cars behind it.
Shaking his head with a sigh, Jaune steps up and purchases a ticket for Mantle, before stepping onto the train and settling down in an available cabin, laying his canvas duffle next to his feet. Across from him sits a woman and, Jaune presumed, her son.
The woman is of five and a half feet in height with a trim physique and an ovular face, with the tell tale pale, fair, skin of the Northern folk and a head of bright, fiery, orange hair with tender golden brown eyes.
She wears a dark ankle length skirt – that showed off her black high-top, one inch heels – with a scarlet red fur-lined high-necked, mantled, long coat that ended at her mid-shin with a dark fur gloves and a ushanka upon her head.
The boy shared the same skin tone and eyes as his mother, with a darker auburn colored hair, and the physique of a normal, healthy, boy his age.
He wore a pair of gray breeches, with dark socks, and waistcoat with a simple white long-sleeved shirt, and his whole ensemble was covered by a tan fur-lined coat with a gray woolen cap upon his head and a simple pair of gray mittens covering his hands.
The boy nervously shuffled over to Jaune and tugged upon the sleeve of his greatcoat to get his attention.
"D-Did you fight in the war?" The boy asked with a thick, but understandable, Atlasian accent.
Jaune smiles sullenly, pained by the reminder of such needless bloodshed, but couldn't begrudge the boy his curiosity. "Yes, lad, that I did."
The boy's face lightens up slightly. "M-My father fought as well, did… did you fight with him?"
"I'm sorry, lad, but I doubt I fought with your father." Jaune apologized. "I fought mostly in Vale and Vacuo, there were no Atlasians in either of those fronts."
"That's okay." The boy couldn't quite hide his disappointment.
Jaune smiled at the boy as he ruffled his hair through his hat, though a quick glace at the mother's eyes tell Jaune all he needed to know – that the father had died for the birth of his country.
"Tell me, lad, what is your name?"
"A-Anton, Sir, Anton Krasnyy."
"Well, Anton Krasnyy, how about I tell you some tales from my time in the war?"
Anton's eyes practically shined with excitement. "I-I would like that very much!"
And so, Jaune spent the rest of the trip regaling the boy with the happier tales of his time from the war – mainly ones involving his troops antics and shenanigans – while the mother looked on fondly, happy her son had found a seemingly pleasant man to look up to.
At the rides end, Jaune payed farewell to Anton and his mother Yelena, before making his way into Mantle proper.
-{O}-
On the way to his destination, Jaune passed by many different people and races. Despite not being known as a melting pot like the Republic of Vale, the Kingdom of Atlas was not without it's fair share of different species and cultures, like some of the stone-skinned dwarves or the many races of Faunus, and with the occasional Gnome, Halfling, and even a Goblin or two.
Eventually, Jaune found his query, the Hunter's Respite, a simple two story tavern and inn made of dark bricks with a slightly darker shingled roof, with the second story jutting out slightly from the first.
Stepping through the double dark oak door, Jaune is met with a myriad of smells and noises – from the smells of various alcohols, from simple honey ales to spiced wines, and the heady smell of smoke from a fire pit to the subtle musics of a lone Bard and rambunctious sounds of working men and women merrymaking.
The tavern was a large room with gray stone floors, covered by various dark oak tables and plush-made chairs strewn about the room, with it's dark brick walls covered by various tapestries and paintings. At the end of the large, narrow, room was a decent sized fire pit, with a spit covered in smoking chunks of meat and a large copper pot, behind a large dark oak counter.
Behind the counter stood a woman, the one who Jaune sought.
The woman stood at a height of five and a half feet with a pleasantly plump, hourglass frame and a heart shaped face with plump, rosy, cheeks. The woman had graying, auburn hair that was tied into a messy bun, and a pair of slightly closed chestnut brown eyes.
She wore a short-sleeved, shoulderless, white blouse – that was held up by an underbust corset – with a long, red, skirt, that was covered in the front by a white apron, with a white cap covering her forehead and hair that was tied in the back.
Jaune silently approached the counter, a worthwhile feat considering his noisy armor, and sat down, placing his helm upon the top of the counter. "Excuse me, Ma'am?"
The woman looked up in surprise – for the fact she had not heard such a large, armored, man approach, and for the fact he seemed to know what manners are – before smiling broadly. "What can I do for ya', lad?"
Jaune sullenly pulls an envelope from his greatcoat and places it upon the counter. "I come bearing a letter from your late husband, he… he was my mentor, and it was the last oath I took."
The woman's chestnut eyes widened, before she tore into the note and read it with teary eyes.
She took a nearby rag to dab her eyes, before looking back up at Jaune. "Oh! You must be the lad my Petey used to write about!" She then enveloped Jaune into a bear hug, smothering him in her generous breasts. "Oh! I can't imagine what you've been through!"
Jaune's reply was lost in her generous breasts.
"Oh! Sorry about that, lad!"
Jaune pulled back from his heavenly prison, blushing up a storm. "Y-You're… not angry, with me!"
"Why would I be upset with you lad?" The woman gave him a questioning look. "You were little more than a squire, there was naught more you could've done, certainly not against a Lich of all things!"
"B-But… I could've-"
The woman gave Jaune a Gibbs slap. "Don't you go blaming yourself, my Petey wouldn't want you wallowing in self-pity! He'd want you doing the best you could in whatever you decided to do with your life!" She set down a wooden bowl of hearty pottage and a tankard of dark amber ale. "Now eat up, if you're anything like my Petey was, I think you've not had a good, hot, meal in a while."
"T-Thank you." Jaune stared into the bowl. "I… I don't even know your name, Sir Port never said and I never asked."
"Names Penelope, lad." Penelope replied. "Now eat up, I'll be insulted if you don't!"
Jaune, having been raised in a family dominated by women, knew better than to argue and promptly dug into his pottage and ale with gusto, as it had indeed been quite some time since his last good meal.
-{O}-
After finishing his meal, Jaune nursed his second tankard of ale while talking to Penelope.
"So." Began Penelope. "What are you going to do, lad?"
"I'm not sure." Replied Jaune. "But, the times are far from being free from troubles, so there should be at least a bit of work that'll need my skills with Aura and Blade."
"And if there is such work, it'll be on the request board in the town center." Replied Penelope. "Whatever you find yourself doing, lad, I wish you luck."
"Thank you, Penelope, I'll… try my best." Jaune replied as he stood and exited the Tavern.
Making his way to the town's center, Jaune found the board easily enough.
In the center of the cobblestone square that made up the center of Mantle sat a large wooden board that sat in the center of a stone wall. Upon it wooden face, sat many pieces of enchanted parchment bearing the various requests of the people of Mantle.
Jaune made his way through the small crowd of Farm Hands, Traveling Tradesmen, and any other soul looking for simple, paying, work, that gathered around the board.
Many of the requests were for simple work, the wall needed repaired, Mrs. McGee had a rat infestation that needed exterminating, and a farmer needed hands for his field, the need for a man of his skills were next to none.
Jaune sighed and prepared to return to Penelope with his metaphorical tail between his legs.
That was until a voice from behind him called out. "You there, young man, you wouldn't happen to be looking for work, would you?"
Turning around, Jaune was greeted with the sight of a short, portly, man.
The man stood at a height of five and a half feet with a pear-like build and an ovular face. He had a balding head of light brown hair with a mustache like that of a walrus covering his upper lip, with tan skin – an unusual thing for the denizens of either Mantle or Atlas – and light brown eyes that shine with mirth.
The man wore a pair black breeches, with white stockings that lead to a pair of black shoes with a large silver button, and a black double breasted waistcoat – that had a mosaic pattern across his shoulders that was separated from the rest of the waistcoat by cyan colored pipping, with a silver chain connected from on of his silver buttons to a circular silver object in one of his waistcoat's pockets – that showed off his white ruffled shirt, and was partially covered by a black cuffed, fur lined and collared, frock coat.
"Aye." Replied Jaune. "But none of these parchments hold any tasks nor jobs that require a man with my kind of skills."
"Then this meeting might be fortuitous!" The man smiled. "By your coat, I take it you fought in the war?"
"Aye, my Order was one of the ones that answered King Ozymandias' call to arms."
"You wouldn't happen to mean one of the Twelve Paladin Orders, would you?"
"Aye, though I reckon they number no more than ten now."
"Than this meeting may have been blessed by the Two Gods!" The man beamed, missing Jaune's grimace. "You see, my Mistress is in need of a protector for one of her daughters."
"Then let's meet this Mistress of yours." Replied Jaune.
"Yes, let's!" The man suddenly looks sheepish. "Oh, where are my manners! My good sir, my name is Klein Serbian, Head Butler and Majordomo to Her Royal Majesty, Willow Eleanor Kowalski Von Atlas Schnee the First."
"Well." Thought Jaune. "This'll be interesting!"
~~{}~~
Sir Jaune of Arc
Sir Jaune of Arc is a former Paladin and survivor of the latter years of the Great war, though thoroughly scarred and tormented by the things he saw and did during said time, who spent countless years wandering aimlessly through the New World of Remnant.
Though, something happened during the war, something that changed him forever. Alas, no one truly knows what happened but Jaune, and he's not in a talking mood.
And Fin.
I'm rewriting "A Lady and her Knight" because I felt the generic medieval fantasy setting I wrote that story in was a little too constricting for me.
Thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed.