Back with a story I've been genuinely enjoying writing.
Chapter 3
Jaune skidded back across the stone tiles, sliding one foot back to steady himself. His white and blue robes fluttered in front of him, caught by the cold morning breeze. Misty breath frosted in the air as he released a sharp, pained breath. Across from him, Master Ren lowered his foot back to the ground.
"You mustn't let your eyes focus too much on my hands," he lectured. "The whole body is a weapon. Again."
With a swift nod, Jaune rushed back in, and soon the dance began anew. Their arms flashed before them, the distance no more than a foot's pace – far closer than any normal combat would take place in. Master Ren called it the inconvenient zone, because that was how it felt for anyone wielding a weapon. Grimm, too, struggled when you were so close. Their larger bodies meant longer arms, good for reach put less capable when you were up inside their guard.
So close, even punches became difficult to put any power into. The distance was better suited for elbow, knee, and the occasional palm strike, and even then the latter was more to create distance by pushing your opponent away.
"Stay circular."
Master Ren never had any trouble talking as he fought. The same could not be said for Jaune, who needed to keep his concentration on the old man's swift movements.
"Many martial arts focus on straight lines. They seek to punch through the opponent. Forwards or backwards only. Ours is more fluid, more round. React and adapt. You have a full range of movement in all directions, so use them."
Block with an elbow, sweep his hand across to take the next on the fleshy part of his forearm, then step in and drive an elbow for the master's face, using his bicep to protect from a counterattack.
It had hurt at first even with aura, but over a year and more of training Jaune had found his body hardening. His bones grew used to the shock of the impact and the repeated training on wooden dummies caused his skin to toughen. Master Ren's arms felt like wooden logs themselves, and aura only made them harder still.
"They say that reach is king in combat. Reach is valuable," continued his master, "but only when both combatants are relying on it. When you are both wielding a weapon that has an optimal distance then the one with the greater reach has the advantage. When a sword, spear or hammer cannot bring its tip down with sufficient force, it becomes nothing more than an impediment." Master Ren smirked. "Which is why they will try to create distance—"
Jaune brought his right knee up and places his foot into Master Ren's rising knee, blocking the attempt to kick before it could even begin. The man grunted and backed away, lowering his hands to signal the spar's conclusion.
"Good. You are learning."
Jaune wiped the sweat from his brow. "Only because you literally spelled it out to me. A real enemy won't tell me they're about to throw a kick in to push me back."
"They'll tell you in their own way. Subtle cues, subconscious movements, the crease of frustration across their face at being caught in such close quarters signalling the realisation that they need to push you away. A martial artist is neither a prophet nor a mind reader. They are simply an individual who has trained to read and react to the movements a person makes."
"And I don't mean any nonsense about reading muscle movements or the twitch of an eye, either." Master Ren often despaired at such movie tropes. "The signs can be far more obvious. If you are pinning an enemy in close combat and you know they are struggling, then you can predict they will make a move to make distance. Of course they will. What other choice do they have? If a foe shifts a foot backwards, it's because they are using it to ready themselves for a heavy swing or kick – not because they have left the rice cooking at home. You do not need to be a detective to notice these things, Jaune. You need only keep your eyes open and your mind ready."
Master Ren pressed his fist to his palm and bowed. Jaune repeated it, making sure to bow lower.
"Thank you for the spar, master."
"Hmhm. I should thank you for the good meal of deer this morning. Though I noticed some of the meat missing."
"A pack of wolves approached while I was skinning it."
"Did they threaten you?"
"No." Jaune shook his head. "They were hungry. There was a mother and its young fresh from winter with them. I took pity on them and left some of the carcass there. We didn't need all the meat anyway."
"True. True. The circle of life continues. One day I shall feed the animals my own body – and you as well. Though your death shall, with luck, not come for a long time yet."
"Better the animals than the Grimm."
Though Jaune had come to terms with his family's death, he still hated the Grimm. It was one of the few things Master Ren didn't criticise him for. Vengeance was reckless, and hatred could make a man cruel, but the Grimm were simple monsters with no redeeming factors. All life should hate them as far as Master Ren was concerned.
There weren't many around the temple, however. Grimm were drawn to negativity and human habitation, and it was only the two of them here. Beyond that, the constant meditation kept Jaune and Master Ren calm. There was no magic to it, no secret meditative technique that dulled their emotions. It was simply that constantly meditating on life and their place in it led to introspection, and that let them address and consider their fears, doubts, and feelings.
Most fear lingered in the human mind, or so Master Ren had said. People carried their doubts with them, and they grew and grew as people bottled up their emotions. Meditation was not about getting rid of them but facing them in a calm and distraction-free sense of mind.
Yes, he had lost his family.
Yes, that hurt.
But, when he meditated, he could think of them and the good times, and he could also consider the fall of Ansel. It had taken time, but he'd eventually concluded that there was nothing he could have done differently. He'd always known that objectively, but it was the subjective that caused his soul to ache. The constant meditation allowed him to accept it deep inside, and to let go of that voice in his head saying it was all his fault.
It wasn't. Those thoughts were just the desperate cries of an orphaned child who wanted someone to blame, and who wanted to imagine that his family could have been saved had he done something different. Jaune recognised the feelings as a hurt child wanting to hold onto his family.
It was his own mind, after all. They were his own thoughts and feelings.
And he'd come to accept them as part of him.
As such, there was little negativity left in him. A little frustration when he learned something from Master Ren too slowly, a little panic if he had a nightmare, a small bit of sorrow when he killed an animal for food.
But no real negativity. Not the likes of which would gather in a village or town where people disliked their neighbours, were having affairs, were struggling with money, rivalries, unrequited love or any one of a million other things that could make you feel awful about yourself. It also helped that, statistically, they were just two people. They couldn't really produce enough negativity to draw any real number of Grimm.
Life was simple out here. The Grimm didn't bother them.
"Your martial arts are improving," said Master Ren. "It may not feel that way when you are forever facing myself. In olden times, you would have had other students to spar with to gauge your progress more accurately. I am using more and more of my focus on you, however."
"Thank you, master."
"In fact…" The old man smiled faintly. "I believe you're ready to leave the temple."
Jaune's face paled. "What—!? I can't be finished with my training yet! I'm not ready!"
"Finished? You? Ahahah!" Master Ren buckled over laughing, his long beard billowing out as he howled with mirth. "Oh my, he thinks he's anywhere close to finishing his training. How comical. No, my boy, I meant that I shall trust you to travel to a nearby village to buy us some supplies." Master Ren wiped a tear from his eye. "Finished his training. Goodness. You are a goldfish in a small bowl. Let us not put you out among the sharks just yet."
Face blossoming red, Jaune felt relieved and embarrassed at the same time, but he was happy to know he wasn't being forced out the temple. Still, Master Ren could have been a little clearer about that! The old man had surely done that on purpose and was enjoying Jaune's mortification.
"S—Shopping, master?"
"Changing the subject, are we? Hmhmhm. Yes, a little shopping trip. I need medicines from a pharmacy – I am an old man, you know. My stock has run out and the journey is some five miles. How can I be expected to make that on these old legs?"
Easily. Jaune had watched the man leap up to and balance on tree branches.
But why do something yourself when you had a student to do it for you?
"Very well, master. Do you have a list for me?"
"I do. Take the skins I have had you gather as well. I will provide the lien for my medicine, but you may purchase whatever you wish – just keep in mind you'll be carrying it back, and that we lack electricity."
Jaune's mood picked up instantly. "Whatever I want? Is that okay? I thought we preached frugality here. This isn't a test, is it?"
"Hmph. Preach? Me? Don't be daft. We live frugally because we live in the middle of a forest. Bring back sugar and spice by the bucket if you wish it. I certainly won't complain if I get some sweet treats. And I see nothing wrong in teaching you that hard work earns reward. That is a good lesson to learn. You skinned the animals yourself, so you should benefit from selling them."
He remembered his parents trying to get him to do chores. Not skinning animals, obviously, but cleaning up and helping around the house. He'd always been so lazy about those, but he was maturer now.
"Thank you, master. Shall I depart now?"
"I shall fetch the list and a map for you first. The doctor knows me so you should not have any problems but remember that you carry the reputation of the Lotus Sect with you. Behave appropriately. Take a staff as well. I doubt you shall need it but you can ward animals off."
"I shall."
"And beware of Grimm. They will be more common close to a village like this. I would not send you if I was not confident you could handle yourself, but should you face too many at once then you should retreat immediately. There is neither courage nor wisdom in fighting an impossible battle. Last stands should be saved for when the consequences of failure are too great to accept." The old man's eyes sharpened. "Wounded pride or hatred for what they did to your family is no such excuse."
Jaune bowed again, and promised he wouldn't do anything to upset his master. Master Ren had taken him in, cared for him, and trained him. He wouldn't disappoint him now. Once he had the list, and once he had recounted the route to Master Ren's satisfaction, Jaune donned a pack with his skins in, along with a waterskin, and headed out the temple gates.
It was to be his first time among normal people in almost two years.
/-/
The forest bustled with song and activity as Jaune trekked the five miles to the village that Master Ren hadn't even given him the name of. While his master claimed to have the ability to burn aura as fuel, allowing him to run five miles with ease, Jaune had yet to grasp the intricacies of it. His own aura was still a fickle beast that seemed content to protect him when he needed it but didn't want to be used in any other way.
It wasn't, though. Giving his aura a personality or mind of its own was a dangerous thing because it would create an idea of him versus his aura in his head, subconsciously making him fight himself.
His aura was him.
He just didn't yet have the necessary control yet.
That was fine. The forest was alive with critters and birdsong in a way Jaune hadn't been able to fully enjoy before he'd slowed down and begun meditating. He'd always gotten used to the idea that the world just had a certain degree of noise that went ignored as a matter of fact. Back home, he would walk around with earbuds blasting music, or chatter from people would drown it out. Sounds of vehicles, horns, footsteps, radios, and other sounds overwhelming everything and turning it into so much noise.
When he meditated, however, he'd found himself with time aplenty to just sit and consider the world around him. To listen and pick out the sounds of a bird building a nest, to hear the splash of a fish leaving the water, or the gentle crunching of an animal biting down onto a leaf. The world had a music of its own that he'd never really appreciated, and being able to walk among it for the better part of an hour was liberating.
It helped that Master Ren's constant emphasis on physical training had left Jaune remarkably fit. The five miles at a fast walk had him feeling warmed up and contented, and when he finally caught the sound of civilisation once more, it was followed by a waft of woodsmoke and burning dust, of engines and manure - smells he could only place as human habitation.
Not good. Not bad. Just different. Unique.
It was busy, though. Distracting. Jaune's nose scrunched up. He'd spent over two years in a temple with clear air and subtle scents. The forest was clean, and when he cooked even the simplest of dishes the smell would seem so strong. The smell of cooking smoke, food, and animal manure was overpowering now, and he had to pause and blink his eyes a few times, simply standing on the path and letting his body get used to it.
Jaune wasn't sure what he'd been expecting on coming back to a village like this. Relief at seeing normality again? Loss at a reminder of his home? Confusion? Culture shock? He'd been imagining a combination of them all, and yet all he really felt was mild curiosity as he walked toward the open gates. The thick wooden doors had been pinned open with stakes driven down into the ground and could be closed by hammering them away. It wouldn't stop truly determined Grimm, but it'd let people on the walls shoot down on them. Often times, defences were just about buying time. Only major cities and towns could hope to fight off a Grimm assault the size of the one that took his home.
No one looked at the strange boy entering the village askance. His loose robes set him apart from the locals. Master Ren wore clothes of Mistralian style despite living in Vale, but even a small village like this wasn't entirely insular. They were normally made up of people too poor to find good work in a city. Or those who had been ground up by it and wanted a break from all that.
His own parents had chosen to move to Ansel because they had children early before they had any great financial base under them. Juniper had been an orphan from the Mountain Glenn disaster while his father, Nicholas, hadn't really talked about his own. Without money from the bank of mom and dad on either side, the young family had been forced out by Vale's exorbitant prices.
It was much the same for people here. Young and unable to find work, old and retired but unable to afford spiralling costs on their pensions, or those who simply didn't have the necessary skills to thrive in the city. All found a home outside in the wilderness where the Grimm roamed.
Jaune meandered down the central dirt path and watched the people come and go. They were simple folk, but hardy. Farmers, lumberjacks, craftsmen, and shopkeepers. They weren't any lawyers or accountants or bankers here. People kept their money on them or in their home, and law was probably set by an elected council of some sort. Or a village mayor. They looked to be farmers first and foremost, primarily of crops but he could see free-range chickens in fenced off areas and he could hear pigs further around the back of the wooden homes.
His nose took him in the direction of a truly awful scent.
Tanning.
The process by which hide became leather was an exact one, and quite a smelly one at that. Jaune found a small wooden barn-like building with sealed doors that the scent came from, and a man outside sitting with some finished leather sheets. His skin looked as old and dry as the leather itself, and he eyed Jaune's blue and white robes and clicked his tongue. There was no leather on him, though that was less a conscious decision and more a factor of wearing Master Ren's hand-me-downs.
"Hello," said Jaune, waving. "I couldn't help but smell the tanning. Do you purchase animal hides by any chance?"
The man rolled his tongue around the inside of his mouth, not entirely pleased to be asked to spend money and not make any back. "Can do," he eventually said, with a put-upon sigh. "But not for much. Forests are rich around here. Good hunting."
"Do you hunt yourself, sir?"
"Used to. Not anymore. My son did, before he got drafted." The man scowled bitterly. "You're lucky to have missed 'em."
"Them…?"
"Military. Came round two months back lookin' for able-bodied men and women. Didn't find any since the last intake, so they took those that might grow into it. My boy was fourteen. They took a few others. Boys and girls both." He looked Jaune up and down and said, "They'd have snatched you up in a heartbeat."
"I hadn't realised the war had gotten so bad…" Jaune noticed the man's expression and added, "I lived in Ansel. It fell to Grimm about two years back. I've been living with an old man in an abandoned temple since then."
"Hn. Thought your clothes looked familiar. That old hermit, isn't it? Strange bloke, but harmless." The tanner sat a little more loosely, evidently deciding he wasn't a threat. "The name's Baron. Nice to meet ya. And sorry about Ansel. We only realised it'd gone a few months back when people started to notice the late post."
"Jaune." He offered his hand to shake. Baron's was old and worn, but strong, with callused fingers. "And I wouldn't call Master Ren harmless. He can be a real slavedriver when he wants to be. I've been off the grid for two whole years, though. I don't suppose you mind filling me in while I get my hides out?"
Baron grunted and did just that.
"The war has been trundling on same as it was before. It hasn't escalated any, but the meatgrinder is taking its own toll. There's been one, maybe two big battles between Atlas and the faunus, but Vale has been trying to keep out of it. Not been too successful. We were allied with Atlas before, and they dragged us into it. Turns out the faunus took issue with us claiming neutrality while selling weapons to Atlas, and they razed and burned a few villages on the southern border. Came in by sea and left the same way. I hear they killed everyone."
"Everyone!?"
"That's what I'm told. Course, it's all fifth-hand knowledge by the time it reaches us, so take it as you will. Still, the refugees running from that direction aren't make-believe. They tell of masked faunus purging humans en masse, even killing their own kind that try and protect non-faunus. Meanwhile, you've got Atlas purists doing the same on the other side and the other kingdoms trying to stay out of it while not upsetting either side – which, as you can tell, hasn't exactly worked out for us."
Of course it hadn't. Vale had started building its own army, ostensibly for defensive purposes and because they could see the writing on the wall, but that didn't change the fact that Vale had sided with Atlas during the first faunus rebellion, and they'd stayed allied after. Everyone knew that Vale would keep siding with its old allies, and that they'd come to Atlas' help eventually. The faunus knew that, especially.
"We're officially in the war now," said Baron, looking through some of Jaune's dried animal skins. He'd already scraped them clean. "But what that means is up in the air. The fighting is bloodiest between Atlas and Menagerie, with Mistral caught in the crossfire. Over here, it's a few raids on coastal areas, a couple of skirmishes, and a whole lot of posturing. We're lucky to be out the way in all honesty."
"Why does Vale need to draft so many of its citizens, then?"
"To protect the city, I expect. Heavens know we don't have anything in the way of protection out here, and I doubt Ansel did either." He paused. "No offence."
"It's fine. And you're right. We didn't."
"Hmm. We all know how it is. They call it a kingdom, but Vale is a city first and foremost. Same as the other big four. They'll defend their immediate surroundings and the farmlands keeping them fed, but everywhere beyond that is going to be left to its own fate. Our only hope is the faunus recognise that if they come on by."
Baron sighed and, seemingly tired of talk of war and politics, picked up the skins. "I can give you two-hundred lien for this. It ain't much, but we don't have much hard money out here."
It wasn't much.
"I don't suppose you can trade for goods instead?"
"Aye. That I can do more easily."
In the end, Jaune left with one hundred lien but about two hundred's worth of leather goods in the form of a leather belt with a few leather pouches on his left hip, along with a bronze buckle. He also got a pair of leather bracers meant for archery, but which would genuinely serve him rather well as armguards, especially when Master Ren was beating on his forearms. Baron went a step further and pointed him in the direction of the apothecary Master Ren needed.
"I just realised that I never asked what this village is called," said Jaune.
Baron shrugged. "It's called Rest. Nothing special. Didn't even have a name once, but a bunch of people came by saying they needed a rest and then didn't leave. The name became a bit of a joke, and then stuck."
The apothecary was another smaller house, ramshackle on the outside but surprisingly well-organised on the inside, with glass cabinets and shelves stocked high with goods. Rest wasn't large enough to require a fully stocked apothecary, so it doubled as selling other marginally related goods like cooking spices, herbs, and even some food. The woman behind the counter, somewhere between forty and sixty with greying hair, looked over the list Master Ren had given him with a pair of glasses.
"Old Shu Ren, is it? I don't know how that man is still alive at his age. This disease should have killed him forty years ago."
Alarm spiked through Jaune. "Disease!?"
"He didn't tell you?" asked the old woman. "No big surprise. When you get to my age, you don't want youngsters agonising over what can't be changed. It's lung disease. Terminal. Though you take that with salt because it was meant to be terminal back when I was a teenager, and the old coot is still around." Chuckling, she gathered the supplies. "These are just to treat the symptoms. I remember my mom telling him it would give him a peaceful few years. Then he went and outlived her!"
Master Ren really was something special. It must have been his fine aura control allowing him to continuously circle aura around the meridians in his chest and stimulate his lungs to fight the disease. Perhaps he even kept them working on aura alone, long after they should have stopped. It was no less crazy an idea than feats Jaune had seen Master Ren perform.
"Some say the old man knows the secrets of immortality. It was a rumour back when I was young, but it caught on once he reached his ninetieth birthday and kept going. Don't suppose you know the secret?"
"Simple food, meditation, regular exercise, and a young student to do all the hard work for you."
The woman laughed. "Ah, that'd do it! Still, he could have made his fortune being a life coach."
"I'm sure he could have, but I don't think he's immortal. He talks about death quite often. I think he's just an exceptionally fit and active old man."
"Hmm. Perhaps so." She bundled the medicine onto the counter. "You tell him to take it easy from me, though. He's making me feel old. That'll be ninety lien."
"Ninety? Master Ren told me it would be thirty."
"Ah." The woman's face darkened. "It was the last time, but inflation… well, more like supply and demand. The city and the army demands, and there isn't much supply left for the rest of us. We can't afford to buy medicine with the prices the city folk can pay, so most of it goes there. Getting hold of even this has been a challenge, and it's cost me more. I have to pass the prices on."
Jaune sighed and opened up his pouch to show the lien. The woman relaxed once he began counting it out. It was fortunate he'd made some money off the skins before he came here. "That's fine. I'll let Master Ren know—"
A loud crack echoed outside, making Jaune flinch, and the old woman jump.
Silence lasted after it.
"Was that a gunshot?" he asked.
"Oh no." The old woman looked even more worn. "They're back."
"Who? Who is back?" He took a stab in the dark. "The military? Is this another draft?"
"Not so soon." The woman was already pulling her till out, shaking her head. "It's deserters. Thieves and bandits. They come every couple of months and there's precious little anyone can do to stop them."
"Bandits? Criminals? Why haven't they been arrested?"
"Arrested by who? Anyone who could fight back has been drafted. They even took what few weapons we had to better equip the army. Only guns left in the village are ornamental, and they commandeered all the ammunition. Our hunters have had to learn to use bows and traps just to put food on the table."
Outside, Jaune heard a loud, female voice. "Alright, you lot. Gather up. It's time to pay your taxes again. Come on, we don't have all day! You know what happens if you try an' hold any back. Get your asses out here."
Jaune scowled. This was wrong. Unfair. The village couldn't even defend itself, and the militia it should have had to ward people like this off had been taken to the city to be trained into the army. He made for the door, only for the woman to grasp his hand.
"Don't," she begged. They're dangerous."
"I'm not helpless myself."
"That may be, but we are. And if you upset them, then it'll be us who pay the price for it." The woman stared into his eyes, while Jaune struggled with what she was asking. "Please," she begged. "It's just lien. It's not worth bringing worse on our heads to preserve."
It wasn't just lien, though. Was it? She'd said herself that medicine was too expensive to import in, and Jaune suspected that trait was following on a lot of other imports. Money lost now meant none left to care for the sick and elderly, so they'd have to make a sacrifice for their families and die early and uncomfortable, wracked by illness and pain because they didn't want their children to suffer in buying overpriced medicine.
Someone should do something…
But should it be him?
He couldn't stay here indefinitely, so even if he somehow scared them away, they'd just come back, and Jaune wasn't sure he could deal with them. He didn't even know how many there were or how strong they might be. And if they started shooting their guns while people were around…
It would be a massacre.
"Just stay calm," pleaded the old lady, moving for the doorway. "When you get older, you start to realise that there's not as much you can change about the world as you first believed. The mountains and plains and rivers will live on long after you do. Better to bend with the wind. Learn to live with what life gives you rather than think on how perfect life might be if a million things were different."
Jaune closed his eyes and sighed. "Fine. I'll see where this leads."
Together with the old woman, he stepped out the apothecary and into the nervously filling road outside. There, five people in ramshackle armour wielding weapons stood. At the front was a short girl with close-shaven hair and tattooed arms. In one hand was a strange weapon that was gripped like a gun but had two curved blades sweeping out on the top and bottom like chakrams. Another hung on her hip.
"The Branwen tribe demands tribute," she shouted, smiling cockily at the old, tired, and helpless villagers. "You'd be best to bring out your valuables and hand them over, lest we make Rest into your final resting place."
Jaune's fist clutched at his staff so hard the wood creaked.
His aura stirred restlessly.
Next Chapter: 20th February
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