Alright, hope you guys enjoy the first batch and I'll be back next time for another chapter and once more, hope you enjoy.
General feedback and critique are greatly appreciated. My writing skills may be a bit lacking, and I'm hoping to get some advice from the folks here who like to read or from other writers.
Just any engagement is nice to have in the reviews.
Chapter: 3 Opening a new opportunity
"Thank you, sir." Jaune said, making great importance to be kind and sincere. His hand accepting a white envelope, one he opened filled with this month's salary; Liens, lots of them in different colors, a rainbow of happiness is his eyes.
Something to stave off hunger and rent for a while.
Talking to Jaune is an old man with eyes that can never seem to open, not with Jaune he saw even once, grumbled back as he wore a red apron similar to the blond was now taking off on the account that the sun was rising to mark his shift has ended.
"Don't mention it, kid. No, really, don't mention it. Just tell me in advance if you're willing to do more overtime, just like always." With the matter of salary settled, the old man proceeds to grab a broom from the supply closet and shuts the door before starting to sweep the store, a sign for Jaune to break off and leave.
"And hey," the voice of the old shopkeeper called out, causing Jaune to turn back. "Take care of yourself, would ya?" with a small wave of his hand, nodding as he left.
"I will."
…
Things aren't technically horrible so far. He has a job to keep himself afloat while given time to settle his money problems.
He lives in a bad part of town, sure, though he at the very least has a roof over his head.
But it's there, he knows it, that sweet spot of a job opening with a higher salary and him fitting right in. He just has to find it.
Outside, with his casual hoodie and jeans, Jaune looks around with nowhere in particular, just aimlessly feel the vibe of things. The hustle and bustle of the crowd, opening of stores.
Grab the day for the morning sun cast a gentle, stepping outside to feel the warming light across the city of Vale for a moment and he took off, shuffling around the crowd.
As he passed by, the streets were filled with the sound of birds chirping and the distant hum of morning traffic. The air was fresh and inviting, carrying the aroma of freshly baked pastries and fragrant flowers. It was enough to feed the optimist in him a dose of calming. Despite things being bad now, he couldn't help but feel that there was still a silver lining waiting to be found.
If he can't find a place in Beacon, there could be somewhere else he could try.
Best of all, he already knows where to look.
…
"Sir," The sound of the female attendant's voice reverberated through the hall adorned with various weapons of old from regular swords and spears with various armors proudly on display lit up by the light, bouncing off the metallic armaments and walls. The old man, his body covered in a web of faded scars partially hidden under a layer of leather jacket, made his way towards her, his steps creating a soft thud on the floor.
"Hrnn, Dahlia, is someone causing a ruckus outside?"
Dahlia shook her head, passing the stack of papers to the man. "None at all, sir. It's for the new applications." The man accepted the documents, giving it a brief glance before thanking his assistant.
The man looked over at the papers, his brow furrowing in concentration. "It looks like there are quite a few applicants," he mused.
Dahlia nodded. "Yes, sir. We've had an influx of people looking to join recently. It is almost the start of the school year in just a month. Then it's bound to have ours as well. For the most part, they're a mixed bag, sir."
The old man sighed, shaking his head. He raises a hand to pinch his temple. "Damn kids… Rejected at Beacon and thinks ours is a cake-walk compared to Ozpin's. Make sure you're thorough in your vetting process. We don't need any troublemakers, if they cannot be helped at all."
"Yes, sir," Dahlia said. "We'll make sure to do our due diligence." The man acknowledges his assistant with a nod as he speaks.
"Thank you, Dahlia. I'll be sure to send it back to you after I'm through." The assistant acknowledges with a respectful curtsy nod before departing.
As Dahlia returned to the lobby, she settled back into her receptionist's desk, scanning the faces of the new applicants. This time of year always brought in a flood of rejects from the Huntsman Academy, searching for employment.
Used to being up-and-coming huntsmen, many of these applicants were simply seeking a way to make a living after being turned down by the academies. After all, a combat school education was the closest thing they had to proper training.
For those who had been rejected by the large academies and were looking for a way to make a living, becoming a mercenary for hire was the last attractive option they had left without the need for further formal education.
However, that is not to say that many of these applicants also had the natural skills and aptitude for combat from their previous education. Their founder knew of this. With proper training, they could become powerful and effective fighters in their own right.
Something she remembered their founder criticized at the academies, loathe even, being a former huntsman himself.
"Darn…"
Her ears rang as a smashing sound emanating from the vending machines as she swerved her sights to one blond boy, tall, lanky, like an uncooked pre-packaged spaghetti noodle and, what's more, his fist on the machine.
"Woah, hey!" Dahlia sprung up from her seat and paced towards the idiot. Before berating him with her arms crossed as his wide-eyes were turned to her.
"Unless you got want trouble or have cash to fix the dent, I would really suggest ceasing." It was enough that her disarming glare reeled the blond back. That frustration to the brief shock turned abashed look on the boy in just a few seconds. Thank gods, she still has it.
"What do you think you're doing?" She said sternly.
The blond boy shifted his gaze away from her as he muttered in a faint tone, "I was just trying to get something from the machine, but it wouldn't give me what I wanted."
"Right, and that gives you the right to punch at it?" Dahlia said. Her eyes were on a lookout for any damages done to the machine and praise be, there wasn't. The kid is lucky.
The blond boy sighed and said, "I know. I'm sorry. I'm just really frustrated. I haven't had a kind week, is all. Things aren't going as kind to me; and even the vending machine is against me." Now, it's all starting to piece together in her mind, and boy, this depressing.
Even experiencing it almost all the time, it's always hard to get used to these things. The type the grimm could get used to: Moody teens with dreams shattered in a heartbeat, a perfect concoction for those soulless beasts to be attracted.
This kid must be one of those Beacon rejects. The timeline fits enough, release of their response to applicants a few days back and he's the many unlucky individuals who ended at their doorstep.
Dahlia sympathized with the boy. Part of her can't imagine what it felt like to read those letters to have ended up in their office. She softened her gaze and said, "I understand. But that doesn't give you the right to start smacking things like some barbarian with a hammer."
The blond rubbed the back of his head. "Yeah, I… lost my cool there… I apologize." Well, be thankful it's not a noticeable dent, or the boss is gonna flip.
Dahlia pulled out a keychain and selected a key from the bunch. She used it to open the front panel of a machine. As she lowered herself, a can that was leaning against the glass fell. Without missing a beat, she grabbed the can and said, "One Sunflower pop," before presenting it to the blond.
To which he gladly accepts with a quip. "My hero." Before closing back, the machine.
She looked back to see a hand stretch to her. "Arc, Jaune Arc." See him with a warm smile as she accepted and shake hands with Jaune.
"Dahlia Asterea."
…
Hence commenced the enigma that was Jaune Arc.
Into a single office.
"Jaune Arc…" There was an audible humming as the old man was deep in his thoughts, eyes closed as he clutch the papers of the named applicant as Dahlia added.
"Yes, sir. No previous formal training… As far as I can find on his application. No combat school records passed over. I don't think he even entered one. Would you like me to a do-over? I could call up our contacts for any records of Jaune Arc, at least in Solis." As she stood by beside him, placing a few more documents on the desk for the man to take a look.
"That won't be necessary, Dahlia. Mr. Arc will fit right in." There was a brief pause that gone over before she turned to the old man, whose face still held an unreadable expression, as he slightly raised his hand.
"Sir?" She asked. Now this was rare, letting someone with no records of combat in their organization. Now the question was in her mind about just whose identity was that uncooked noodle supposed to be to warrant the boss to make such a sudden decision?
"Instead, prepare for me a call, one from Ansel and Beacon. I have to make a few inquiries from old friends to make."
….
Sitting by the lobby, Jaune Arc sipped on his soda pop while watching people walk by, stand around, talk amongst each other, most likely the other applicants as he awaited the result of his application with anxiety being drowned down by the sugary drink helped.
It wasn't his business, but almost entirely of them made up of near his age and that rose a good question. Are they also the rejected from Beacon, as well?
They unquestionably sport those eccentric outfits, and not to mention carry complex weaponry. Not deterred nor envy of their own equipment, his eyes slowly went down to his own.
The jeans he wore were faded and frayed up a bit on one leg, paired with dusty black shoes and a black hoodie hidden underneath a cheap breastplate, coupled with bracers and fingerless leather gloves.
Feeling inadequate now? Well, he is partially, and with good reasons since apart from him, they at least have any semblance of formal education from a combat school.
What does he have to bring to the table? Practicing swordplay to varying degrees of success with the family sword he took off with from home, without his parent's knowledge, so a criminal. Or a fraud, a suicidal one at that.
"Urgh…"
As it made an announcement, the sound of the public announcement speakers rang to life."… and Jaune Arc, may you proceed to the interview room two."
So there he goes, leaving his life at the mercy of faith.
Jaune tosses the can to a nearby bin and made his way, not before asking for direction for the older people around the place, as they looked like they know this place more than those on his own as he arrived by the door.
As he stood before the doorknob, his hands hesitated briefly, almost trembling. It was a moment of intimacy with himself, a chance to gather his thoughts before venturing into the unknown. The deciding factor was to go back home in shame or stay in live out his life in Vale.
Finally, he summoned the courage to turn the knob and slowly opened the door, and stepped inside.
"Ah, good to see you again, Mr. Arc."
The room looked sparsely decorated, well besides for the table and chairs and a single potted plant by the corner; and with joy on his face, Dahlia sitting by giving him at expected look. Must be his interviewer.
"Dahlia… Good to see you too." Jaune nodded back as he took a seat across from her. "So, what's the verdict?"
Dahlia tapped the piles of documents on the table multiple times before picking up and deftly sliding a single piece towards Jaune as her response.
So there it was. As he looked at his application, a wide smile spread across his face. A stamp was near the bottom of his application as he looked at it. It read something that felt like that silver lining was closer.
"Approve for physical test"
"Congratulations, I supposed this is also where we thank you for joining our organization." Dahlia added.
That was progress, right there. That was great. That felt good. For once, he actually was now closer to his goal… and he didn't even have to forge anything on his documents this time or anything.
Which is why he stopped. Too good to be true? This rose-tinted glasses were fogging up to Jaune. His mind couldn't escape that fact, such a big discrepancy as his history be looked over and thought it's good enough.
As Jaune's eyes scanned the document, he glanced over at Dahlia. She was busy tending to the other papers, leaving him to dwell on the supposed good news.
There is always a line between being careful and being too suspicious. But by Oum's mercy, it was really killing him why he's just be up and be accepted in for training.
"Just like that?"
"Are you expecting something more?" Dahlia's eyes returned to him, a brow cocked.
"I jest. Yes, while we indeed find your lack of proof for your formal training quite unusual, and downright nonsensical to even attempt-" At the mention, his head recoiled, flinching down. "However, due to circumstances not yet clear to me, our current leader has seen fit to allow your induction as a trainee for your test, regardless of your lack of identification with any registered combat school or any alternatives."
Jaune's only reply to that, even the only thing his head could even think of. "Huh…" Huh, what are the odds… He could only blink at his luck, whatever it just did to him for being one step closer to his end goal.
"Mr. Arc, this case of yours is peculiar. As per law, we disallow any membership to people with no formal background training, nor any vouchers for any known fighters. Which you did not have any to show for. Even so, our leader approved of you, nonetheless."
Peculiar indeed.
"I don't mean to pry… I must ask first: have you had any training or such before? I mean in combat."
""Erm… Somewhat. While I was still living in my hometown, my dad used to teach me with a sword. After a while I decided to pack up and leave one morning, though I have lots of time to myself while on the road. Practice alone with myself. Then I met a lot of people in my travels and visited villages who'd give me the time of day to teach me a thing or two with this girl. She helped me in more times than I could remember. First beowolf we took down was the greatest achievement I had in a while, well, with some help from the farmers nearby."
He was clear on his message, hoping to persuade her by placing his "girl" on the table with a loud thud, making sure Dahlia saw it, and gave it a pat on the grip. He hoped that this gesture would persuade her and spoke as clearly as possible to reiterate his message.
"She helped out a lot people on my travels, helped me way a lot more. I might not have yet learned all there is to her, but I'm glad to have her in a fight."
There was a small smile on Dahlia as she gave a small nod of approval to the blond. He'll fit right in indeed.
"Alright, before you meet your partner for this task, I'll have to brief you just as I did with hers earlier, before she returns."
"Partner?" The blond boy raised his brow.
"We can't have trainees running around alone now, could we? Don't worry, this one is a simple task that could be finished with a pair. I'm sure the both of you could handle this easy. Besides, you'll have external support from outside the organization with more experience guards. Just follow their orders and everything should flow smoothly."
….
He has to hustle!
At a train station situated on Vale, Jaune Arc strutted along the bustling station with his usual wear and his sword sheathed, now with a suitcase in hand, filled with several articles of extra clothing and stuff for self-hygiene and a thoughtful gift from the old shopkeeper: a collection of various dusts and a bottle of mineral oil for his trusty sword.
Enough to last this trip and back.
He ought to thank the old shopkeeper for his kindness in repayment after this job. Even if insisted on saying it's "On the house" .
As he took one more look at the card in his hand, he thought to himself, It should be here… He then quickly darted his head around, searching for what he needed. He couldn't waste any more time - he had a train to catch and his partner to find.
"Jaune, over here!" Which already found him.
His eyes darted towards the direction of the beckoning voice. Just a distance away from the commercial trains, he saw a massive cargo train painted in deep black hues. The train cars were lined up in a row with multiple box-cars, metallic crates were nearby on the platform as machines arrived to carrying it inside…
"Get a move on. We got our own room in here!"
…
"Man, Jaune, look at those guys…"
"Huh?"
"What could soldier-boys doing here?… Hold on, don't they look like Atlas?"
"Atlas?… What the hell…"
"They even got those robots too… all for dusts? Don't they have like boatloads of those in their own place? What are we exactly protecting? 'Know what? I just hope they pay us well for this…"
"If huntsmen won't even take this job, then it's probably so. Or so not."
Next chapter: 3.5 A glass of cold brew before the storm