Ruby I

Crouching behind an old shelf, the approach of a man with heavy, flat feet caught my ear. In spite of his efforts to move in silence, his feet hammered the ground as if made of lead. The balls of his feet struck the floor and rang bell-like, trepidation only stretching the sound into long doldrums. By that point I was certain that he was aware of my presence. Revelations of that kind, that one's mark was aware of their status as prey, had compelled many amateurs to move hastily in the past. The knowledge of the fact that a chase was underway suddenly made it more real for both parties. Ideally, one would subdue their mark without ever letting them become aware of the fact that they were being hunted. Always stalk at a dogged pace, such that your prey's death and knowledge of your presence come paired like thunder and lightning.

I heard him turn on his heels and face down the aisle of the shelf that hid me. Luring him into the cellar was quite the task. The rows of shelves served as the perfect cover and the lanterns that once lit it had long gone cold.

The sound of gunfire crashed against my ear. Instead of walking down the aisle, as I had anticipated, he had instead decided to shoot at the other side. The punch of lead came loud and heavy like percussion. What a clown, I thought; what man had ever been routed so easily, I thought. Victory seemed near, until one round from his rifle, lonely and stray, ricocheted off of some stud in the now bare wall and found a home in the meat of my shoulder. I grit my teeth and tried not to scream. I had let this battle go on for too long.

Ducking around the shelf and creeping up behind him, I readied my weapon. The hunk of iron in my hand unfolded like a butterfly knife and produced a great blade from between the two handles, forming a scythe. Bringing the scythe down hard on the back of his legs and cutting the tendons, the gunman folded with a scream. His gun fell out of his hand and bounced as it hit the ground, firing a stray round that lodged itself in the ceiling.

His weapon was modern, complex. Back in my father's day guns were simple. Some of the older rifles, he told me, required that the black-powder and the ammunition be loaded separately rather than coming packed together in a single bullet. All rather inconvenient. Things changed dramatically after the advent of single action weapons, now even a fool like this, without any aura, could pose a decent threat.

Though times were certainly changing, I thanked god for the fact that outlaws were still just as dull as ever. The mess of a man who laid before me groaning in agony was none other than Nace Copper, a prolific thief who had stolen hundreds of pounds of gold from banks across all of Anima. His crime spree went unchallenged for years because Nace was always careful. He only ever stole small amounts. Combine that with his unassuming appearance and you have the perfect crime. He was neither tall nor short; neither fat nor slim. He was the kind of man you could find anywhere. Putting him away would do all the normal looking middle aged men a favor.

"By the power vested in me, by the Republic of Vale and the spirit of justice which courses through the veins of its people, I hereby-" I began to say before being immediately cut off by his screams.

"I YIELD, I YIELD! MERCY!" He was struck with terror when I reached out to him, expecting me to end his life. I was almost offended by his fear, truly I was. At no point was killing him part of the plan. Although not working within the law, strictly speaking, I was no criminal. I only wanted to arrest him. Of course, his resistance complicated things quite a bit.

After knocking the man unconscious I wrapped his wounds, took him outside, and tied him to a lantern post. After that I ran for home. Or, rather, I ran for the place that had served me as home for the past few weeks. My real home was at sea. Sailors had a dozen names for the island where I was born, but for those who did more than merely drop anchor there, to those who lived there, it was called Patch. Truth be told, I miss the sound of waves and tire of the hills and the mountains and the forests which seem to stretch on forever.

A month ago I enrolled in a college of hunters to learn about magic and auras. It was called Beacon, after the city where it was founded, and it accepted few students. However, I rarely attended any of the lectures. I felt my time was better spent hunting outlaws like Nace. The city had not lived up to the stories. It was a much rougher place than I initially thought. For some it was a city of emeralds, that much could not be denied, but for others it was a place of rough cobbles and iron. Fools like Nace made life hard for the common folk. I wouldn't be much of a hunter if I let that go on.

I made my lodgings in one of their smaller dormitories. Upon approaching the northern face. I made my ascent towards the third floor. All of the entrances to the building become locked by 11 at night, no later than 11:09. Strange metal eyes in the courtyard watched the sky, looking for a certain constellation. Once they saw it the doors became impossible to open from the outside.

As I climbed the bricked face of the thing, it occurred to me that I dangled 40 feet off the ground, suspended only by the strength of my fingers. Slipping to the ground would have been so easy. Falling wouldn't have been a problem if I hadn't been so tired from the fight. My aura was fairly strong and would have protected me from the fall at least partially. Were I not so high off the ground I would have just gone back down and slept in the courtyard. The paving cobbles could be surprisingly warm so long as you had a cloak with you.

I breathed a sigh of relief when my hand clasped the window of my room. Climbing through it, I set my feet down gently. Everything seemed fine as I closed it. Then a prickly voice poked at me.

"You dolt! I was sleeping. Do you have any idea what time it is?" she asked "Well, what are you waiting for? I asked you a question." I didn't know what I could possibly say to that.

"Um," was the only thing that was able to escape my mouth.

"'Ummm'? What's 'ummm'? Can you point to the hand on the clock that points to 'ummmmmmm'?" she asked, making her way over to a clock on the wall. I had no idea we even had a clock, or that someone had taken the time to hang it with a hammer and nail. She brought it over to me and pointed at it. "Which of these hands looks like 'ummmmmmmmm' to you?" She asked.

"Well, it's awfully dark in here, I can't really see them," I replied. Weiss let out an exhausted sigh before crawling back into bed.

"What was he thinking making you captain. Ignorant as the day is long and seldom even here to lead, what kind of captain is that?" She whinged

"Are you still complaining about that? At this rate you'll die cursing me, my lady," I said, facetious.

"Perhaps I might," Weiss had been my roommate for about a month and I can confidently say that I had never encountered a woman so bitter, perhaps because she was small, standing only a hair above five feet Every first year student at Beacon was assigned to a cohort of sorts, a group of four hunters who were expected to work together like a well oiled machine. Joining was mandatory and leaders were assigned by the headmaster himself. My mother attended this same school and was the leader of her team as well. I assume that was the reason I was chosen, much to Weiss' chagrin.

Like a white tiger, Weiss had a noble appearance that enchanted people, but it also betrayed her true nature. Beneath that marble countenance lies something hungry and dangerous. There were times where I feared it might swallow me whole. Still, I couldn't help but wonder what gave the tiger its fangs. What happened to make her so aggressive? I wonder. All this to say that I spent a great deal of my time thinking about Weiss. Who was it that hurt her, and why? Oh, how lovely it is for the mind to wander.

The next day Weiss woke up before me. I heard her quietly shuffling around as she prepared for the day. I caught a peak of what she was doing and saw her apply some kind of fragrance behind her long ears. Weiss never told us about where she was from, but, based on the ears, I figured she was some kind of Spriggan. Did all of their women wear perfume around the ears?

She had a large mirror situated on her desk where she did her make up. All the powders and gels and glosses were too much for me to handle, but when I did bother to put any on I applied mine while sitting on the floor.

"You'll be late if you don't get up now," She said. I was half asleep and the prospects of me waking up in time for our morning classes seemed increasingly slim. It was just Oobleck's history lecture so who really cares? He was an idiot if I ever saw one. "Did you hear what I said?" She asked, slightly annoyed. "Suppose I'll have to tell Yang you're skipping classes now..."

"I'm up!" I shouted, beating away whatever sleepiness had held me in bed. Oobleck was one thing, but my sister was a different beast entirely. If she got wise to the fact that I was skipping class I'd never hear the end of it. Although the bathroom was shared between the four of us, our dorm had a few amenities that were quite nice: wood flooring that was dark as coffee, cottage style wallpaper, and a modest kitchen. I made my way over to the kitchen and offered Weiss some toast. Her pointy ears perked up at the notion. She knew that I was generous with the margarine and that I tended to toast the bread with butter on the stove.

"If you're cooking lemme get some too," a sunny voice chimed.

"Aren't you tired of my cooking at this point, Yang? I can only make two or three things, and third tends to be touch and go,"

"Can't say I am. I'll have whatever you're making and fetch me some toast as well, kitchen wench," her jape got a laugh out of me. She had a way of bringing the comfort of our old home with us wherever we went. And for that, I loved my sister dearly. Trust me when I say she always lit up a room. Tall, blond, and boisterous, Yang had the personality of roaring cannon fire. She was loved by everyone, men and women alike. I remember times when she would recount stories from her travels and people would hang on her every word. It was like magic, that kind of magnetism she had.

"Have you seen Blake? She's been a bit scarce lately"

"I haven't seen so much as a speck of you lately either. Been busy?" Yang grinned.

"You could say that," I stammered. She snickered at that. She probably thought I had been spending my nights with some boy from class, or maybe some strapping dandy I met in the Emerald City. Better for her to think that than for her to know what was really going on.

If she knew she'd ask to come with me. Things would probably go fine for a while, but then she'd get hurt. I know it. Not to say that she was incapable, far from it, but something would eventually go wrong. It always does. When that time comes better me than her

"Rest your weary little head, Rubes. Blake's in our room pacing back and forth like a maniac," she said. Can't believe she's calling me 'Rubes' in front of other people now.

"If I'm a maniac, you're the entire goddamn psych ward," Blake shot back.

"Aye, on that we agree. Why don't you sit down and eat something for once?" Yang said

"Is Ruby cooking?"

"She is,"

"I picked a good time to come out then," Blake said, shooting me a grin as I handed Weiss a plate of bacon and toast. We all sat and ate, talking about our plans for the day. Apparently there was a function that was being held by some of the upperclassmen off campus that Yang planned on going to later. She managed to convince Blake to come with her, but Weiss and I were more hesitant. I never had a taste for wine and tended to avoid the kinds of gatherings Yang went to.

Besides, I had other plans. The streets of Beacon became more sinister at night. I, the minder of better days, took it upon myself to do something about it. It's what our mother would do. Spending my time keeping the peace was more important to me than trotting off to who-knows-where to do god-knows-what.

Eventually though, the conversation meandered to the topic of school.

"What's Oobleck talking about today?" Yang asked, to no one in particular.

"It's in the syllabus," Blake replied

"Well, sure, but I didn't read the syllabus. Oobleck smokes longleaf so why take his course seriously?

"No, I don't think it's longleaf. If it was then why does he talk so fast? Usually it has the opposite effect"

"Some do, some don't. It depends on the breed, each one is a little different,"

"Have you tried it?

"No,"

"But what about that one time when you-" I began to say.

"When I didn't indulge in longleaf? Ah, yes I do recall the time when I didn't pack my pipe with strange herbs. What a day that was thank you, Ruby,"

"Show me a human who can be sober for an hour and I'll show you the next king of men," Weiss interjected "What a sad little race you belong to, truly a pity."

"Alright, Alright! Why is everyone on my neck all of the sudden?" Yang said, fighting back a smile. "Let's get a move on."