Jaune awoke with a sick feeling in his stomach and his head throbbing with pain. He couldn't remember why, though for some reason he could hazily remember drinking lots of mead, perhaps a little bit too much of it. Someone knocked at his door and he let out a groaned response as the sound of the knock made his mind throb and pulse with pain.
"The Lord Regent wishes to see you milord." A soft, feminine voice called. "May I enter?"
"What for?" Jaune groaned, and he heard shuffling on the other side of the door.
"Clothes milord, as well as breakfast." The voice replied, a strain in the woman's tone. "Please milord these are very heavy..."
Jaune grumbled under his breath, rolling onto the floor with a grunt and his head throbbing with sheer pain and disorientation from the sudden movement. He managed to scramble on his feet and move his sluggish legs towards the door, which he pulled open with ease.
"Come in." Jaune grunted, blinking away the harsh light that spilled into his bedroom. The serving girl bustled inside, quickly laying a plate of food on the bedside table before laying some fine, well-made clothes that also looked comfortable on the bed.
"The Lord Regent wants to see you as soon as possible to discuss your hunt for his stolen bride to be." The serving girl informed him, blushing prettily and averting her eyes from him. "You may also wish to take a bath milord, the Lord Regent has a fondness for the softer sides of life, and he may treat you kinder if you appear more courtly than like a hedge knight."
"Thank you for the advice." Jaune replied as sincerely as he could, his voice still hoarse from waking up and from his powerful hangover. "Say, have we met before? You seem familiar."
"No milord." The girl squeaked, before quickly hurrying from the room. "Hurry milord, your food will get cold and the Lord Regent lacks patience."
Jaune blinked again as the girl practically slammed the door shut in his face and he stood in shock for a few moments, listening to her hurry away from the room as if it was haunted.
"Crocea Mors?" Jaune asked, turning to the sword that was resting against the foot of his bed. "What happened last night? I'm a little...I'm very hungover."
"You drank too heavily at the feast and required assistance returning to these chambers for rest." Crocea Mors replied carefully, a hint of confusion and conflict in his tone that confused Jaune in turn, as well as worried him. What would the sword hide from him? "I protected you from intruders."
"Intruders? As in low lives, cutthroats or thieves?" Jaune asked, wondering just what sort of adventures the sword had gotten up to that night.
"Low lives most certainly." Crocea Mors quipped. "You do not need to fear Jaune, I dealt with them for you. Just like I promised I would."
"Well...I owe you my thanks then." Jaune admitted, settling down on his bed to pick at his breakfast. After some urging from Crocea Mors he forced himself to eat more and more until the plate was empty and after drinking a cup of water he found his headache had subsided when a worrying thought suddenly made itself known in his mind. "How?"
"Pardon?"
"How did you scare off any intruders?" Jaune asked. "Sure a talking sword is scary, but you can't defend yourself unless someone wielded you and I was too drunk and asleep to do that. What happened?"
"I...I showcased some of my more supernatural powers." Crocea Mors admitted quietly. "It was that which scared off the low lives."
"My soul..." Jaune gasped, standing suddenly and tossing his empty plate across the room. "You stole part of my soul you bastard!"
"It was part I already had access to!" Crocea Mors protested. "In the Temple the God of Darkness siphoned off too much to bolster his power to try harm Salem. The leftover remnants were imbued in me for a scenario such as this, or to build up over time in order to do further damage to Salem."
"How can I trust you? How can I believe you?" Jaune demanded. "All you have done this entire time is do your best to try and hide the truth from me! First with the fact you'll slowly be eating my soul, second the fact that I was attacked by someone and you aren't telling me why and now this! Would you have told me if I didn't connect the dots?"
"I do not know." Crocea Mors admitted. "I feared you would be in a poor mental state after what happened last night."
"So what did happen last night?!" Jaune snarled, feeling his frustration with the sword's evasiveness reach a crescendo. "You can't use what happened as a shield and proceed to not elaborate what actually did happen!"
"I do not wish to tell you out of concern-"
"Tell me you fucking waste of tin!" Jaune howled, picking up the sword and tossing it across the room. It clanged against the wall and toppled onto the floor, and the silence that followed was punctuated by Jaune's heavy breathing.
"Two serving girls that carried you here, you unable to do so yourself due to your inebriated state, tried sexually assaulting you in the hope of siring a bastard." Crocea Mors answered coldly. "They believed you would be honourable enough to treat them and their bastards well due to a reputation for honour you seem to have. They were going to rape you Jaune, and I stopped them. In the process I destroyed a part of your soul I was unable to return to you, so I sincerely apologise for my evil actions. In the future I'll just let them violate you whilst you can barely move or slur your words."
"I...Fuck!" Jaune yelled, throwing his hands in the air before slumping and holding his face in his hands, kneeling next to his bed as if he was praying. His hazy mind helpfully supplied him with glancing memories of what had happened, of the way his body felt lighter as they tore off his armour and the way they had pawed at him like he was nothing more than a piece of meat and cash cow for them. "What do mean you couldn't give me my soul back? Is there some spell or something that prevented it?"
The sword said nothing, making Jaune sigh explosively.
"Can you answer me please?"
Nothing.
"Mors?"
Still nothing.
"Mors!"
Even more nothing.
"Fine." Jaune sighed again. "Be like that. Look away whilst I get dressed would you?"
The sword still said nothing and did not use it's soul-consuming magic to move. Jaune bit back another sigh and went to work talking off his clothes, though rags would be a more suitable term for what he wore. The grass green tunic he'd been given by Klein back in Nördliche Burg had become a brown rag, covered in stains from sweat and blood and mud. It had tears and holes and without his armour covering up his body he realised just how much skin was exposed by his the poor state of his tunic.
He shivered at the thought of the blurry faces he could remember giggling as they stripped away the armour that seemed like a second skin to him and the rough way they had pushed him onto the bed and ran their hands down his body. He tore off the rag and tossed into the corner, quickly doing the same to the brown hose that had lost much of it's fabric below his knees. He replaced his undergarments with the fresh ones provided with the fresh clothes before pulling on the white woollen shirt and grey pants neatly folded on his bed. He picked up his armour and struggled to put it back on, frowning when he noticed it had rusted in parts. He needed to take better care of his equipment.
He also wouldn't mind a squire to help him take his armour on and off.
Once he was fully he re-equipped he hesitated before picking up Crocea Mors and strapping the sheathed sword against his belt. Even if Crocea Mors was giving him the silent treatment he needed to use it if he was attacked or found himself in a brawl, something that almost seemed inevitable these days.
He left his room and wandered the corridors until he found a servant, having forgone a bath due to not knowing where to ask for one and the time it would take to prepare and bathe. He could do so when he got back from his hunt, though it wasn't like that wouldn't last a decade or so. Knowing his luck he'd be wandering through Atlas' blasted wilderness for another dozen or so years before he could finally fulfil his agreement with the Lord Regent and return to his home.
The servant gave him directions and Jaune found himself in the Iron Court once again. Although it seemed fairly early in the morning, a feast was taking place and many were drinking and making merry, astounding Jaune who was still recovering from his hangover. The Lord Regent spotted him through his rheumy eyes and beckoned him over, and Jaune obeyed, choosing the path of lesser resistance out of shock at the early morning feasting and a lack of desire to intentionally antagonise the Lord Regent.
"Lord Arc." The Lord Regent grinned. "I trust you slept well?"
"I did my lord." Jaune replied politely, fighting the urge to grimace as he saw more glimpses at his almost-rape. "Did you?"
"I slept as best as I could without my wife at my side." The Lord Regent sighed dramatically. "I hope you can remember our agreement?"
"I do." Jaune nodded. "Do you have any possible leads? It would be easier to follow a scent than blindly wander the streets of Bessemer or the wilds of Atlas in the hope of stumbling across your nephew and wife."
"If I did my wife wouldn't be missing would she not?" The Lord Regent asked rhetorically. "But you raise a good point. There is an information broker at a tavern just beyond Bessemer's walls, the Glided Cage. It's owner is a well known information broker, though they have been recalcitrant to treat with me after an unfortunate incident between myself and the owner's sister. If you pretend to be working on your own she may be willing to give you the information we so direly need, as I have no doubt in my mind she knows where my wife is hidden away."
"I'll do that now my lord." Jaune bowed. "With your permission of course."
"Go." The Lord Regent dismissed, smiling in a way that made it seem like he was satisfied with himself. "I will not be angered by your eagerness to complete your quest. In fact, you remind me of myself when I was younger."
'I hope not.' Jaune thought, glancing at the man's obese body, wobbling chins, red face and prideful veneer.
"You honour me." Jaune said, struggling not to retch at the words, bowing once more before turning and hurrying from the poorly named Iron Court. The Fool's Court seemed more accurate, as he saw only fools and those bound to the fools in the court during his short stay there. He idly wondered how Lord Ironwood would react to the sight of his court in such a sorry state.
The thought of Lord Ironwood's wrath amused Jaune as he walked in silence through the city streets. After realising he didn't know the specific location of the Gilded Cage, he asked a passer-by who sent him towards the south. Jaune thanked the man for his information and headed south, trying to remember the way Ironwood verbally eviscerated Lord Regent Piers in his mind but struggling to do so. His father had always spoken highly of Lord Ironwood, and to Jaune's knowledge they had managed to form a friendship of sorts since Ironwood arrived in Vale to take Jaune's fathers former custodianship of half of the realm as Governor of Vale.
Nicholas Arc, during the few stories he had told and even fewer stories he had told of Ironwood, had painted the picture of a stern, dutiful man who had a big heart behind a stony exterior. Jaune struggled to compare that image of a taciturn leader of warriors with the utter excess he'd witnessed in the Iron Court.
As time passed he found himself missing the silent companionableness of Crocea Mors. The sword spoke rarely but often when it did, and Jaune felt himself grow more awkward as the uncomfortable, stony silence between him and the sword continued instead of their usual companionable one.
'I haven't been a very good companion lately.' Jaune thought, feeling a swell of shame.
"Why should you?" Whispered the dark, seductive something that always lurked in his mind these days. "The sword will kill you, destroy your very being over time. You do not need it's kindness, for it is the same kindness a butcher shows a lamb they are bringing into the slaughter house."
Jaune tried to ignore the voice, not respond to it, but he felt it twist and coil at his pseudo-acceptance of it by his vehemence in ignoring it.
"You know what I am Jaune. You know I'm here. You know I'm real." It purred. "Why try to resist what is reality?"
'What are you then?' Jaune wondered, earning a laugh from the voice.
"Your better self Jaune." The voice laughed, a smirk clear in its tone. "Accept the darkness inside you, you know it feels right, that it feels true. Do you remember the joy of battle? The satisfaction you felt when you killed and maimed and slaughtered?"
Jaune did not answer it, but he did. He remembered the thrill of his fight against the bandits. He remembered the savage joy he had felt as he cut them down one by one, Yang at his side.
He froze in the street, heart heavy and eyes closing as he lowered his head. It hurt to think about Yang. It hurt to think about anything these days.
"Give in." The voice advised, a hint of pity in its tone. "It would be so much better for you if you did."
It faded away but he could feel it lurk in the dark shadows of the deepest, darkest depths of his mind. He shook his head and continued walking, not wanting to validate his insanity by communicating with it directly.
He tried to ignore its laugh as it responded to his idle thought.
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"Sir Jaune!" A little voice called out shortly after Jaune passed through the southern gates of the city and entered Bessemer's outskirts, the landscape blotted by trenches and ramparts and other such defences.
He looked around until he saw a little boy hurrying towards him, the face and voice familiar until he remembered it was Raven, the little boy he had met the day before.
"Sir Raven." Jaune nodded, his helmet jangling. The boy giggled and puffed out his chest.
"I'm not a knight yet." The boy pouted. "But I will be, just like you! Promise!"
Jaune smiled sadly at the little boy, though it was thankfully masked by his helmet. He was no knight, that was for certain. Even if he had been knighted and made a sir, his deeds and behaviour was the opposite of chivalrous.
"Pinkie promise?" Jaune asked, holding out his armoured pinkie. The boy's face lit up and he wrapped his littler finger around Jaune's, giving it an eager shake before giving him an excited look.
"What are you doing Sir Jaune? Are you on a quest? Will you slay a dragon?" Raven asked eagerly, and Jaune felt a pang in his heart as he remembered the last dragon he had met and the last friend he had lost.
"Not today." Jaune replied honestly, earning a n 'Aww!' from the boy. "But I am on a quest, yes."
"Really!?" Raven gasped, and Jaune nodded. "Can I help?!"
"You can." Jaune chuckled, earning a happy yell and fist bumps from the boy. "I need to find the Gilded Cage, a tavern, and ask for some information from its owner."
"I can take you there!" Raven cheered. "Aunt Melanie owns the Gilded Cage and she knows everyone! I know stuff too."
"Do you now?" Jaune asked, letting the boy lead him along.
"Uh-huh." The boy nodded, giving him the side-eye. "You don't want to know about the Lord Regent's wife do you?"
"What?!" Jaune spluttered, stumbling as he was caught off guard and giving the boy a wide-eyed look. "How do you know that?"
"Aunt Melanie keeps complaining about the Lord Regent pestering her about it." Raven shrugged. "Plus a bunch of mercenaries and stuff keep asking after her too, though they're lame. I'll tell you what I heard if you want."
"That would be appreciated." Jaune said, slumping in relief. It seemed like his task wouldn't be that hard after all-
"For a price."
-And now he was being extorted by a literal child.
"I don't have any money Raven." Jaune sighed, pausing for a moment. "Or sweets."
"I don't want those." Raven huffed, poking Jaune's knee. "Knight me and I'll tell you everything, I'll take you there too!"
"I can't do that." Jaune said gently. "You're too young to be a knight Raven."
"Make me your squire then!"
"I'm a bear, not a wolf Raven. I travel alone."
"Well I'm not going to-"
"How about a compromise?"
"What?" Raven asked huffily, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at Jaune in a way that was more adorable than threatening.
"I can make you a squire-to-be." Jaune lied, though only about his legal ability to do so. He couldn't since he was not a knight, but he knew the words and could probably make up the rest. "It's a position for promising squires who meet a knight who cannot take them on to be their squire personally. It means when the squire-to-be next meets another knight, they can show they deserve the position and are more likely to be made a squire."
"Yes please!" Raven pleaded, eyes widening as he grabbed Jaune's leg and nodded eagerly. "Make me a squire!"
"A squire-to-be." Jaune reiterated, earning another nod from Raven.
"Make me that then!" Raven said desperately, and Jaune found himself smiling at the child's antics.
"Very well then." Jaune said, doing his best to make his voice seem more knightly and authoritative. Guilt swelled in his chest at deceiving the boy, but it was unlikely he'd be picked up by a knight anyway and it wasn't as if Jaune's actions would permanently and adversely effect Raven. "Kneel, Raven of Bessemer."
Raven quickly fell to his knees, eyes wide with wonder as Jaune drew his sword and held it before him.
"Do you swear to fight for justice, uphold the Queen's peace and adhere to the chivalric code?"
"Uh-huh." Raven nodded eagerly.
"Do you swear to protect the innocent and destroy the evil?"
"I do!"
"Do you swear to never run from battle and to fight honourably?"
"Yeah!"
"Then I bid you rise." Jaune said, lightly tapping the flat of Crocea Mors' blade against the top of Raven's head. "A squire-to-be of the Kingdom of Atlas-Vale."
"Yes!" Raven cheered, doing a little dance as he sprang to his feet before grabbing Jaune's hand and dragging him away. "C'mon! C'mon! I'll show you where the Lord Regent's wife is."
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Raven led him to a small hamlet east of Bessemer, beyond the ramparts and other defences and hidden behind a large forest. It was the famed Ironoak Woods, the highly valued woodland estate of the Ironwood's. It was famously rich in game to hunt and it's Ironoak trees provided a strange sanctuary and breeding ground for Winter Bees, allowing apiaries to flourish even in winter, Atlesian winter at that. The bulk of the Ironwood's wealth came from selling licenses to hunt in the Ironoak Woods, and Jaune wondered just how long the Lord Regent had lost his wife, if she could be hidden so close to Bessemer but somehow be undetected by his horde of mercenaries and bounty hunters.
"Do you see that barn to the right of the village?" Raven asked, pointing to the east of the hamlet. Jaune nodded after spotting it. "The Lord Regents wife should be in there. Can I go now? I wanna tell my aunt I've been squired!"
"To-be." Jaune added on, earning a pout from the boy that made him chuckle. "Yes Raven, you can go now."
Raven smiled and waved before racing off back towards where he came from, and for a moment Jaune wondered if he'd been tricked and sent on a wild goose chase by the boy.
"You have, because you do not learn." Scolded the dark voice in his mind. "Kill the boy, show you aren't the same gullible, trusting fool who had his throat cut by his 'friend'."
Jaune ignored the voice and quickly decided to put his faith in Raven. He saw no reason for the little boy to trick him, and he hadn't lost anything other than a bit of time if it was a wild goose chase. He wandered across the fields towards the barn, and as he came up to the doors to it burst open and three men emerged, all of them carrying drawn swords. Jaune immediately drew Crocea Mors, and shifted carefully as they surrounded him, the youngest of the men speaking first.
"Who are you and what do you want?" He demanded, and Jaune started at him carefully.
"I'm going to guess you are the Lord Regent's nephew." Jaune said, noticing the familiar colouring. "You have his eyes."
"I have my father's eyes." The nephew snapped back. "And if you're here to take my wife from me then you have another thing coming!"
"Your wife?" Jaune asked, and someone else stepped out of the barn.
"There's no need for violence, any of you." Said the fourth stranger, a beautiful young woman who was likely Lord Piers' wayward bride to be. "My dear, please lower your sword."
"But Militia!"
"I said lower your sword Trivian."
The nephew, Trivian, huffed and proceeded to lower his blade. Jaune copied the motion, though his show of good faith was not mimicked by the two other men.
"That goes for the both of you as well Stephen, Wolf."
"But milady he is here on behalf of the Lord Regent!" Protested on of the men. "He will take you from Lord Trivian."
"No, I don't think he will." The green-eyed woman said, giving Jaune a calculating look. "Are you here to take me to the Lord Regent?"
"Technically." Jaune admitted.
"Why?"
"He promised transport home, and he forced me into it as well by implying he would not recognise my identity."
"Where is you home?"
"Vale, Ansel to be exact."
"You're an Arc." Miltia deduced cleverly. "I am Lady Milita Malachite, though now I am Miltia Port after marrying my love."
She gave Trivian a fond look and held his hand, something Trivian returned with a smile.
"Lord Trivian's uncle thinks otherwise."
"I know." Miltia sighed, before giving him a look. "My sister, Melanie, owns a business that primarily deals in information brokering. However she also dabbles in smuggling, which brings in most of our families income. I can arrange for her to organise transport to Vale for you in return for you not betraying us to Lord Piers."
"Fine." Jaune shrugged. "When's the soonest that can happen?"
"Today I suppose." Miltia blinked. "It was that easy?"
"I have no love for Lord Piers." Jaune shrugged. "And you are promising me what he did with the cherry on top being you aren't blackmailing me into it. If it is any consolation I do not think many in the Iron Court are hunting you down willingly. Lord Piers is an unpopular man to say the least."
"That is a relief, but unsurprising." Trivian smiled. "As you put so accurately, my uncle is not popular."
"If it is not impertinent of me to ask." Jaune wondered, sheathing his blade as Trivian and the bodyguards behind him did the same. "Why hide so close to Bessemer and run the risk of being found by Lord Piers' bloodhounds?"
"Because my family remain here, and I doubt Lord Piers has much longer to live in this world considering the life he leads." Miltia replied, making Jaune snort in agreement. She cocked her head suddenly. "Can you hear that?"
Jaune mimicked her action and frowned as he heard the sound of the armour in the distant. Suddenly a group of armoured Bessemer guards appeared from around the bend in the road cutting through the Ironoak Woods and leading to Bessemer. A column of soldiers marched into view, and at the centre of it all was the distinct figure of Piers Port.
"You led them here." Trivian hissed, hand falling to his sword.
"Unintentionally!" Jaune protested, and Trivian just shook his head.
"Miltia go back inside and gather as much as you can. Be ready to run." Trivian ordered. "Stephen, Wolf, we'll distract my uncle for as long as we can so we can make a break for it. As for you, you can either die betraying us, die fighting with us or run. Take your pick."
"I'll stay." Jaune shrugged, feeling torn between self-preservation and what felt like the right thing to do. "Let me talk to your uncle, I imagine he'll have little patience for you after you stole his betrothed."
"Fine by me." Trivian muttered, and Jaune stepped forward a few paces and waited as Piers' force slowly marched towards them. A contingent of troops marched towards the hamlet, but even with a slightly less strong force Jaune, lover boy and lover boy's two guards were greatly outnumbered.
"Thank you for you service Lord Arc." Lord Piers called from a top his horse, and Jaune found his respect for horses in general skyrocket, even as he felt a wave of sympathy for the poor horse which had Lord Piers on its back. It might as well have been carrying a boulder. "Return to Bessemer and we shall discuss transport to Vale after I have dealt with my wayward nephew."
"I'm afraid you can't do that my lord." Jaune replied politely. "Lady Malachite, now Lady Port, married Lord Trivian legally. They have officially eloped and if you wish to challenge that you will need a priest willing to annul their marriage."
"She is my betrothed!"
"Actually she is Lord Trivian's wife." Jaune retorted, leaving Lord Piers' red-faced and open-mouthed. "Betrothal contracts can be forged and broken my lord. This is an unfortunate case of such an occurrence."
"You insolent fool!" Lord Piers snarled. "Stand aside or you will die with my nephew, those sellswords of his and everyone in that hamlet who harboured this traitor. I give you this one warning out of honour to your father, who needs you as his only male heir. Reject this kind offer and my men will kill you Arc."
Self-preservation or honour? Self-preservation or honour?
Damn him for a fool because Jaune didn't know what to do.