"Ok, this have gone on long enough. What happened? Spill." Nora called out after the girls from Team RWBY had left. The credits were playing while snack bowls and used glasses were scattered around the room. Giving Jaune the faintest idea that they maybe ditched the clean-up.
Pyrrha was in her blanket cocoon, taking up the entire sofa after he got up. Her eyes, red and puffy, still welling with unshed tears. Locked to the projected screen, but cloudy and unfocused.
Nora lifting her up a laying her head on her lap, gently running her fingers through her friends hair. Pyrrha didn't say anything, her falling tears telling more than enough.
"Am I a bad person?" Pyrrha asked, of in her own little world. Having completely ignored what Nora asked.
"Pyrrha, baby, we need to know more than that if we want to help you." Nora whispered softly.
"I… I liked it… It made me feel strong, validated. To see all my training come to fruition." Pyrrha whispered hollowly, eyes glossy with tears. "Does that make me a bad person?"
Abruptly moving, Pyrrha almost smashed her head into Nora's jaw. Emerald eyes staring at him. Licking her lips nervously, she asked. "What about you Jaune. How do you deal with… all the murder and killing surrounding your semblance?"
"Huh. Well isn't that a loaded question." Jaune muttered, quickly placing the snack bowls into the sink before turning to his partner. Chains shoot out of her, reaching to him, Nora, Ren and Violet. Some shot out towards the school, while other darted wildly around. Yet they were in the way, useless visual noise. He didn't need to read his partners spirit to know that she was hurting.
'Why people?' Jaune wondered idly, before shoving the thought to the side.
"I don't think you will like what I have to say. There is no miracle cure, or some way to magically make the feeling's go away." Jaune started, quickly beating himself up mentally when Pyrrha wilted before his eyes. "But why don't I bring out some snacks, maybe some tea, and we can play a boardgame or something like that while talking about what happened yesterday."
His experience with his sister's screaming at him that he needed to handle this carefully. He didn't need a master's in psychology to know that Pyrrha was in the beginning phases of a downwards spiral. The last thing he wanted was to set her off, or to somehow make things worse. Something he had quite the talent for.
"Trauma bonding!" Nora called out, springing up before helping him prepare. Pouring what was left in some bowls before opening the filled alcohol cabinet.
"No more than two small glasses." Jaune ordered as he sat some rules, being quick to notice her hand reaching for the vodka and other strong spirits. Having alcohol help lower some inhibitions so they could better freely speak their minds had some merit. But getting blackout drunk together would be more than counterproductive. Not to mention he wasn't in the mood to baby sit three hungover adults tomorrow. He could, but he had better things to do. Like coming to grips that he had seen a divine being.
That his mental state wasn't shattered beyond repair after being in Their presence for too long a miracle. His spirituality had yet to recover, surging and crashing around inside him. But that was a small price, one he was more than willing to pay.
"Fine. Party pooper." Nora harrumphed. Quickly skipping back over to the coffee table with some small glasses and her bottles. While he would never take her for a drinker, he had noticed that she would rather hide behind alcohol, or something else, when she was faced with uncomfortable topics. Wanting to rather ignore them if she could.
"Isolde, be a dear and make sure she doesn't drink more than two glasses. Or try to sip from the bottle or the like when we aren't looking." Jaune whispered, feeling the shift in the air when Isolde materialised behind him and bowed, before disappearing.
"Dad… who is Isolde?" Violet asked curiously, looking up at him with big, blue, curious eyes. Having been glued to his side almost the entire day. Ever since they got back from the disaster spar and he managed to get her through a shower, she had been following him like a lost duckling. Her hand clamped onto the tail of his shirt and refusing to let go. Even now, she stood on a little stool and helped 'wash' the dishes. Only drowning them under soap as bubbles rose in the lukewarm water.
"She is my Messenger." Jaune answered. Sensing her confusion, he continued. "She is a type of spirit, a supernatural, or occult, entity, which I am contracted to. Allowing me to use her services. I can explain it more in detail later when your boundary circles are solid. You will also hold a ritual to draw in spirits and other supernatural beings, so that you can contract a messenger of your own. But now, please was your hands."
Violet nodded, quickly doing as told, before they both moved over to the coffee table. Where there already was a glass filled with a shot of vodka if he wanted. Ren solemnly sipping on his whiskey, while Pyrrha nursed a glass. Lost in thought and drawing into herself. Shame awash on her cheeks as she wiped away another stray tear.
"Pyrrha, I want to you to know that you aren't a bad person." When she looked to retort, he held up a hand, quickly silencing her. "You were in a stressful situation, with emotions running high. What you felt could just as simply be happiness and relief in finding Ruby, and the others safe. But in the heat of the moment, with tensions running high, relating what you felt to something negative, could happen. Something similar happened to me when I saved Violet."
At the mention of that, Jaune felt Violet scamper into his lap. Her sharp butt pressing into his thigh as she leaned into his chest. She didn't shiver in fright, but she looked uncomfortable. Almost as if she had done her best to repress the memories he just mentioned.
"Jaune, how did you and Violet actually meet?" Pyrrha piped curiously. Setting her glass aside as she looked at them.
"No, no changing the topic." Jaune said, forcing himself to not care while Pyrrha wilted and pouted. He was more than a little understanding; he hated bringing up what went down in Yharnam. But this was something that needed to be nipped in the bud, as both a friend and leader, he coulndt allow this to eat away at Pyrrha.
"Those in glass houses shouldn't be throwing stones." Nora chimed.
"Nora, shush." Ren chided, hiding a little smile behind his glass.
Ignoring the disaster duo, Jaune rolled his eyes. Fighting the urge to sigh. "It's just the guilt talking Pyrrha."
"But how do you deal with it." Pyrrha interrupted, wiping away another tear. Dragging her knees into her chest. "I feel… dirty."
"So do I." Jaune confessed. Shrugging nonchalantly, having grown used to it. He would be more concerned if he suddenly was greeted with an empty mirror, or no blood on his hands in the morning. "I know you won't like what I have to say, but there is no magical way for those emotions to go away. You simply need time, to come to grips with what you have done. If you want coping mechanisms, you can freely choose what you want. Do you simply want to ignore the little voices, maybe bottle them up, or burn them away with zeal or something like that. Unfortunately, we can't cope for you, we will be there for you, being with you every step on the way. But we can't do it with you."
Anger flashed briefly in Pyrrha's eyes before she sighed, tears welling again. Wiping them away with her sleeve she turned to Ren.
"Semblance." Ren said simply. Taking another sip of his whiskey. A coldness briefly flashing in his eyes. "Can't feeling anything if you feel nothing when doing the deed."
"First of all, I revoke your right to call me self-destructive." Jaune chastised instantly. Frowning at his friend as he held up his hand. "Secondly, that is in no way, shape or form healthy. And that's coming from me."
"It's what works best for me." Ren shrugged indifferently. "It served me well till now, and I'm not in the mood to try something different."
"You know, I joked about this being Team Trauma. I didn't mean for that to be taken as a challenge." Jaune snarked good naturally back. Feeling the conversation derailing quicker than yesterday's mission. But none of them really cared. Not when Pyrrha barked out a guttural laugh, snickering to herself with happy tears streaming down her face.
Her spirit looked lighter. He could still see guilt and disgust swarming around, but it wasn't clouding her spirit as it had before. Rays of light poked through the clouds. A better outcome that this he coulndt hope for.
"But, Jaune. How you and Violet met. That have to be quite a story. Come on, spill." Nora egged him on, an electric grin on her face now that Pyrrha was looking more like herself.
"Well…" Throwing a quick glance over to Pyrrha, he noticed how she also looked curios. "It began with …"
####
"Lad. You have been staring holes in that map of yours for hours. Even the youngling has fallen asleep by your side. What are you thinking?" Gehrman asked Jaune, making him break his staring contest with the old parchment. Something flashed in his old mentors eyes. "Can't find what you are looking for?"
"You would be correct." Jaune sighed, going back to scouring the map. On the table before him was the cumulation of his many hunts. A map, his map. He had long since outgrown Gilbert's map, the basic overview it offered not enough.
His map contained addresses, street names, secret paths he had stumbled upon, alleys that snaked through the city, lamp locations, and everything else he had stumbled upon and learned. But he coulndt find the way forward. He knew it had to be there somewhere. All clues he had pointed at Byrgenwerth. But he coulndt for the life of him find the way there. He was half a mind from walking down till the city's gates and find a way from there.
He knew in his soul that he would get answers there. Not good answers, just answers ranging from bad to worse. But he coulndt get his answers if he didn't find where the Academy was located. He already had the key, he just needed to find the lock.
"You wouldn't happen to know where I can find Byrgenwerth?" Jaune asked, not hoping for more than some idle conversation. And maybe a chance to see if he could get some help from the old hunter.
"Byrgenwerth, huh." Gehrman mumbled lost in thought. "Now that is a name I haven't heard in a long, long, time." Quickly shaking himself out of the reminiscing daze that enveloped him.
"You know it?" Jaune asked. Hope creeping into his voice.
"Know it, yes." Gehrman spoke measuredly, hand gripping his cane tight before easing. "But I… swore an oath… On my apprentice's, my dear Maria's grave, that I would let that accursed place fall to ruin." For a brief moment the fog in Gehrman's eyes disappeared. His old mentor resting a sharp look on him. "And lad, for your own sake, I caution you not to go seeking answers. If only to protect yourself from the truth you will stumble upon."
"What if I still go looking for answers." Jaune asked softly, turning his gaze back to the map. Searching for what he was missing.
"Then I will not stand in your way." Gehrman answered simply. "But don't come to me looking for pity, or sympathy, when what you learn shakes you to the core."
"Truth hurts, huh." Jaune muttered aimlessly.
"Aye, lad. It does." Gehrman said airily, leaning back in his chair with an air of indifference laced with grief. "She is a special sorts of lady. Everyone shouts how much they want to see her, yet when they do, they find out she is dressed in thistle and thorns."
Running his left hand over the map, a thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind. From inane questions such as 'why don't the necklace hurt?' and 'I wonder what we should have for dinner tomorrow.' To more pushing matters such as 'should I finally answer the summoning' and 'should I set up an appointment with a dentist for Violet?'
Sighing, indecision clouded his mind. Throwing one last look at the map, he knew he had already come to a decision, only stalling for the sake of it. Reaching for his trusty revolver, he popped out the silver bullets, exchanging them with what scant crystal tipped bullets he had. Three 'special' molotov's disappeared down into his vest. Double transmuted and with a teaspoon full of fire dust sprinkled in to give some extra spice. The bottles mouth's sealed shut with crimson wax, orange light beaming out. Volatile didn't even begin to describe them. It felt as if he had three furnaces strapped to his chest.
Two blood vials found their rightful place. So did a mental alacrity potion he had created followed by a vigour booster for a pick me up if he needed, and two calming brews in case he saw something he shouldn't. 'I need to name my concoctions' Jaune noted idly as he quickly strapped down some poisoned throwing daggers. Followed with a pot of hemlock and one of gallnut, for when poisons became necessary.
Lastly, he took a look on his right palm, his back up healing spells still ready. So were all the spells for his 'oh fuck' combo of blood armour, limit breaker and harm delay. A fancy little combo of spells that would make sure he survived even the worst of beasts. 'As long as they are not capable of magical attacks that is.' He had yet to run into someone else capable of casting spells, but he wasn't so arrogant to think that he is the only one capable. There was a reason he had dedicated so many slots to dispel and counter spell after all.
'I should get another one or two spell matrixes branded.' Jaune thought idly, feeling a bit uncomfortable with how quickly he had reached the limit. Fifty-four slots sounded like a lot, but five went to dispel, another five to regeneration, four to cognitive purge, and suddenly he was down to only thirty spell slots. Maybe he shouldn't dedicate so many slots to just three spells. But at the same time, they were spells that were simply good to have at hand.
Checking his mind for everything, he pocketed some fire paper. He never used it, and he should maybe infuse some dust into the mixture before transmuting some. 'But let's leave that till tomorrow.'
"You seem to have figured out something." Gehrman chimed from the side. "Planning to calm your mind with a hunt, are you?"
"No. I have waited too long to answer a summon." Jaune answered, throwing on his coat, he strapped the belts lined with pouches tight. "And… I have some… news I must deliver."
The boutonniere of white lilies in his chest pocket feeling like it weighed a thousand tons. Duty, responsibility, all screamed at him. He didn't want to be the bearer of bad news. But Arianna deserved to know. Even if she decided to hate him, even if she were to spit his name with vitriol as she cried. He wouldn't blame her.
"No Violet, you can come along, but not for this. I will call you when it's safe to appear." Jaune said, giving his apprentice a stern look. Violet already dressed and ready. Her longsword strapped to her back in a leather sheath of its own, a white lily boutonniere in her chest pocket, and a silent longing to not be left alone in her eyes.
'Are there any negative consequences to seeing your parental figure decay until nothing was left before your very eyes, then run into his arms a minute later? Undoubtedly.' Jaune sighed to himself, not oblivious to where her new clinginess stemmed from. And they who had made so much progress to get her more independent. Only for that to happen before her very eyes. Shame burned inside.
"I'm not leaving you behind, Violet." He said gently, kneeling down and pulling her into a hug. Ignoring the tears that wet his coat. "It's just, there are somethings I must do, alone. You coming with would only make it worse."
"Please don't leave me alone." Violet pleaded into his chest. Hiccups wrecking her body as she hugged him with all the strength she could muster.
"Never." Jaune swore, tucking an errand strand of hair behind her ear and kissing her lightly on the forehead. Gently wiping away the tears in her eyes. "But can you a brave girl and wait alone until I call you? It shouldn't take more than some minutes. You won't even know I'm gone."
Violet pulled back, frowning up at him as her eyes searched for any signs of lies or falsehoods on his face. The tension in her shoulders easing as she gave him a little, hesitant nod.
Breaking the hug he stood up, patting her on the head before walking out of the workshop. Shooting a quick glance to the middle of the staircase where a group of messengers had given him the eye of a blood drunk hunter. 'Another key, I just have to find the lock. Maybe I should chase that lock instead if I can't find any clues to Byrgenwerth. Is worth a shot at least.'
Waking up in the Chapel, a long sigh escaped him. A quick cursory look told him Arianna was still down in the reading room. Something he was thankful for; he didn't want the crone or the dweller to overhear them.
Taking of his top hat, he held it against his chest as he gently walked down the winding staircase. A guilty warmth seeped from the necklace embedded into his left hand. Warm, guilty, hesitant, grieving, yet also contentment in a way only the dead could be.
His boot's echoed with each step down the staircase. Coming to a final crescendo when he stepped into the reading room. Leaving a haunting silence in his wake. Arianna's eyes darted to him; a nervousness hung the air, faint embers of hope dying in her eyes. Tears welled in her eyes, yet an acceptance settled over her. She didn't make any sounds, she didn't plead with him that Auora coulndt possible be dead as he had seen so many wives, friends, and mothers do when his dad delivered news about another Huntsman's demise.
"She is dead, isn't she." Arianna whispered, her shoulders falling in acceptance. Rage flashed briefly in her eyes before she blinked, grief and acceptance taking its place. Yet it didn't take away from the hurt thick in her voice, the way her jaw clenched, how her lips thinned.
"She is." Jaune said simply, not wanting to hurt her with gentle lies. Giving a soft bow with his head. "My condolences."
"Keep them." Arianna replied quickly, venom lining her words. Collapsing back in her chair, tears streaking down her face. "You hunters are all the same. She would still be here if you hadn't filled her head with dreams. If you had just been able to say no."
Jaune stood patiently, face carved from stone, as Arianna hurled venom at him. The fire in her eyes quickly fading as she collapsed forward. Sobbing softly, her head in her hands as her body was wracked with sobs.
"I'm sorry, I truly am." Jaune said, stopping himself from walking forward and enveloping her in a hug. Gently he buckled up his belts, taking off his coat and wrapping it around the grieving woman. He knew when he wasn't wanted, but neither was he about to leave a grieving woman alone.
"Was it quick?" Arianna whispered, pulling his coat tight around herself. Tear stricken red eyes staring up at him.
"It was peaceful, gentle. She didn't suffer." He reassured gently. Doing his best to not let the memories of It unsettle him further.
"Thank you." Arianna said, voice trembling. "That's better than I hoped. But please, leave me. I know you mean well… but I can't stand the stench of blood on you."
"As you wish." Jaune whispered, leaving his coat with her as he rose. Placing his top hat on his head, he made his way back to the staircase. Throwing one last look over his shoulder to the grieving woman, the boutonniere of white lilies clasped firmly in her thin fingers. Tears falling onto the petals. Her fingers turning white.
Guilt, anger, disgust and self-loathing came bubbling up. A thousand and one apologies were on his tongue, yet he coulndt bring himself to say a single one. Instead, all he did was take a deep breath and walk up the staircase. Knowing that his presence was a constant reminder of what she had lost. Arianna might not have been Aurora's mother, but she had cared for her as if she was her own.
He could see the confusion in the dwellers cloudy eyes. Like lighting they darted to his left hand, the golden chains merged into his hand reflecting light from the burning candles. The protruding chains making his glove fit uncomfortably. He could fix it, but it had slipped his mind, and he had a thousand more pressing matters.
The dweller bowed, forcing his crippled body to prostrate towards him. Jaune was about to stop him, to lift him up, yet the blazing flight of zeal stopped him. The doubt and self-hatred he had seen swarming his spirit burned away. And rather to break that fragile flame, Jaune chose to walk past him. Allowing him to indulge in his belief. Only snapping his fingers and surging his spirituality when he reached the lantern.
In the blink of an eye the smell of incense and softly murmured prayers were gone. Replaced by the sound of dripping water, the smell of rot and mold. The air tasted of mold and stale air. A haunting melody rang in his ears, followed by a beautiful pearl of laughter.
"Careful." He said with a smile, his hand shooting out. Catching Violet in her collar, stopping her before she kissed the stone floor face first. Lifting her up, he sat her down feet first. A smell of white lilies tickling his nose, his coat wrapped around him, protecting him from the nip in the air. A silent 'thank you' left his lips.
"Dad, where are we?" Violet asked nervously. One hand darting out with lightning speed to grab his hand, the other fingering with the misericorde on her hip. Her fingers turning white around the hilt, a nervousness racing trough her.
"Hemwick. A cruel place, but we won't be staying here long." His words hung in the air for half a moment, before he started walking back up the staircase. It wasn't as much nostalgia he felt as it was disgust. A disgust that was only reinforced when two grave women descended on him like bats out of hell. Cackling madly, screaming slurs and muttering curses only to be met with cold inference and hard steel.
A familiar cool falling over him. The guilt and disgust directed at himself, the hurt that filled him after delivering the news to Arianna washed to the side. There was a time and place to handle his emotions, and on the hunt wasn't it.
"Why were they attacking us?" Violet asked, a morbid curiosity in her eyes. Squatting down beside one of the chopped of heads and poking it with her misericorde.
"They are a from a coven of witches. They are practitioners of Arcana. Another type of magic beside Blood magic. However instead of drawing their power from blood, they draw their power from the cosmos. It's more complicated than that, their fascination with eyes not something I have figured out yet, but this is neither the time nor place for a lesson." Jaune explained, looking out of the doorway. The grave-lined path just as he remembered it.
"Can you teach me?" Violet asked, coming up to his side.
"No, or not yet. I want you to have a solid foundation in blood magic first. Arcana is a lot more… finicky than blood magic, more an art than a science. Even if the same can be said about blood magic, Arcana push that to the extreme."
Letting Violet mull over his words, he began walking down the muddy path. Thankfully the summons's letter included where he could leave for the Castle. 'If only the road to Byrgenwerth had been so easy to find.' Jaune grumbled to himself. After all, it didn't much matter if he had the key if he coulndt find the lock.
Hearing and smelling the executioner, Jaune dashed forward. A startled yelp escaping Violet at the sudden movement before she threw a hand over her mouth. The lumbering executioner startled, picking up the pace. Crocea Mors slithered out like a snake, piercing all the way trough the executioners knee. Rolling the blade around, Jaune tore his sword out through the knee, making sure to sever all the tendons.
Lunging again, quicker than lighting, metal flashed. The executioner didn't register the pain from it's knee before it's head was severed from the body.
"Violet, why did I move the way I did?" Jaune asked Violet. Swinging his sword trough the air to clean off the blood. Frowning when the smell of smoke grew stronger. Charred remains still strapped to burning poles with madwomen cackling and dancing around the flames. "Think of it while I go clean this… mess up. See if you can find a shovel while you are at it."
With that he lunged forward. Exploding into a sprint, severing the head of a cackling witch. Feeling heat tickle the back of his neck, he slipped under a burning torch.
In the firelight, Crocea Mors shone with righteous fury. The colours of dusk momentarily returning to the hamlet. Before burnt orange turned into glistering crimson. The silver inlay of Crocea Mors making the red strike out.
"And done." Jaune said to himself, turning around and seeing Violet turning towards him. The pride in her eyes only dwarfed by the splatter of blood on her misericorde. In her other hand she held a shovel. The spindly fingers of a madwoman still wrapped around it in a death grip.
"That's not exactly what I meant, but good initiative." Jaune lectured. Violet wilted, only to beam a smile at him when he praised her. "Now, with the executioner. What did I do, why did I do it that way, and were there any better or worse choices I could make?" He asked, stomping at the madwoman's wrists, snaping them and taking the shovel out of her grasp. Light having ling since left her eyes.
Throwing a glance over the burning stakes, Jaune planted the shovel head into the muddy ground. Placing his foot on the blade and breaking dirt. Throwing it over the fires to put them out. The heavy dirt quickly choking life out of the flames.
Violet looked around, before she sat down on a large headstone, absentmindedly watching as he worked.
"You surprised him." Violet started.
"How? Why?" Jaune asked back, smiling to himself. Not needing to turn around to know the gears in her mind were spinning to life.
"You went for his knee."
"Why?"
"He coulndt move with only one leg."
"Why was the first thing I did removing his mobility?"
And it continued like that. He poking and prodding Violet with questions, forcing her to think and reflect about what just happened. While Violet did her best to answer. Sometimes she came up short, frowning as she coulndt answer. When she did get hung up on a question he gave her a little hint. His apprentice always quick to answer after.
The pit quickly grew. And not before long the shovel was sat aside, gently he cut the smouldering ropes. Catching the charred and unrecognisable remains in his arms. The stench of burnt hair and melted flesh burned his nostrils, but still he carefully placed them in the grave. Women, men, children, and even a werewolf stuck in transformations. Their half human half beastly skulls caught in agonising torment until the end.
With a sigh, he grabbed the shovel and began filling the mass graves. Part of him wanted to give everyone a single grave, but he didn't want to spend the entire night digging graves.
"Why?" Violet asked curiously, an impish gleam in her eyes. "Why bury them?"
"Because it's the right thing to do." Jaune answered simply. "Because I want to give them this last kindness."
"But why?" Violet asked again, honest confusion dwarfing her earlier impishness.
"For the same reason I buried a lock of Aurora's hair in your parent's grave." Jaune answered softly, not wanting to bring up those memories in his young apprentice. "Because I care. Because I can't help myself. Because I'm kind. Because I'm tired of blood and misery. Because if there is an afterlife, then I don't want burn in the bowls of hell. Because I want the same to be done to me when my time comes."
"No." Violet whispered. His apprentice jumping from the gravestone and throwing herself at him in a crushing hug. "NO! NO!NO!NO! You can't die! You aren't allowed to die! Please don't leave me alone."
"Never." Jaune promised, running a hand trough her hair. "I won't die." He lied. "I will never leave you alone." He promised.
Drying his apprentice's tears. Jaune bent down, placing his left hand on the mass grave. Muttering a silent prayer and chant under his breath. The golden necklace in his hand surging with warmth as he chanted.
"Oh light of heaven, shine below,"
"Bless these souls, let peace bestow."
"May all who rest here find their peace,"
"In this sacred haven, their worries cease."
A golden sigil shone on the grave, bathing the grave in soft and tender light. The hymns of an angelic choir rang in his ears. Before his eyes, the ghastly forms of burned and charred souls bowed before him. Disappearing into motes of gold and dashing towards him. Hushed whispers of thanks reaching him, before they disappeared.
"What happened?" Violet asked hesitantly. Caught between wanting to rush to him and not daring to touch him, lest she was to disturb what she had just seen. Taking the choice from her, he stood up and enveloped her in a hug. Setting her down and stretching to his full height.
"The spirits were laid to rest, and their grave sanctified." Jaune explained, the warmth in the golden pendant subsiding. "They can't be raised from their graves, and it protects this mass grave from further desecration. It's not much, and we can't undo what has already happened, but at least they can rest in peace. Mabe they even will find a better peace in death, than they ever did while alive."
Noticing he was rambling, Jaune caught his tongue. Shutting his mouth with a loud clack. Looking towards the large stone monument, he pulled out the summons from a breast pocket.
The sound of neighing horses echoed trough the night. Out from the mist two black horses came trotting, pulling an old worn wooden carriage. Violet hid behind him, misericorde in hand. The eyes on the horses burning red. The carriage stopped beside them; the silence broken by an eerie scream as the rusted hinges on the door were opened.
"Huh. A coach driven by a ghost. I guess you learn something every day." Jaune mumbled, staring unfazed into the empty eye sockets of the skeleton before him.
"Greetings, young scion." The skull clattered; the skeleton dressed in an immaculate suit bowed in proper etiquette. "Why don't you and your young charge climb into the carriage, and we can make haste to Castle Cainhurst. It is not often our Queen decides to formally summon an outsider into our hollowed halls. A feast is surely being prepared in the kitchens."
Being well aware that he was lacking any and all forms of selfpreservation instincts, Jaune placed his foot onto the wooden step. Resting his hand on the wooden doorframe and helping Violet in. The cushion surprisingly springy, the wood still healthy and sturdy, not at all what he had been expecting.
When they were both seated, the doors closed magically behind them. The skeletal coachman taking his place on the box seat. Grabbing the reins, and with a soundless command, they were off. Violet quickly scampering beside him. Grabbing his hand and looking out of the window in both surprise and caution. A soft gasp escaping her when the coach pulled off the crumbling bridge. Horse hooves trotting over open air as if it was solid ground.
"Isolde, dear. You know which friend to give my letter to when we reach the castle." Jaune muttered softly to himself. Throwing a quick look out of the window, he took in Cainhurst Castle. The once glorious castle surrounded by a freezing storm. Ghastly spectral skulls trapped in the storm.
He wasn't sure what he hoped to achieve. Confusion and uncertainty clouding his mind when it regarded Alfred. In the end, all he did was sigh. Hoping that he did he right thing, something that had become harder to do the longer he spent in Yharnam.
Choosing not to agonize over it, he joined his daughter in looking out of the window. Taking in the magical journey of the coach pulling them over the still lake.
#####
Leather boots on stone echoed out in the cathedral ward. A shadowy figure walking up entrance to the grand cathedral. Silverly moonlight reflecting of the bird shaped helmet it wore. Razor sharp metal blades were hidden under a feathered cloak, peeking out as he moved. On his hip was a sheathed katana.
A bell tolled with every step he took.
When the haunting figure was gone, Eileen emerged from the darkness. Stepping out of the shadows cast by the grand cathedrals staircase.
Her heart didn't hammer in her chest, adrenaline didn't rush trough her even as she stalked her most dangerous target yet. Breathing evenly, every step was silent. No bell to toll her arrival, no sound to foretell her target's death's. Just the quiet rustling of an autumn breeze ruffling her feathered cloak. Revealing her blades, the old siderite blades glinting in the moonlight.
Ascending the staircase like a ghost in the night, she carefully stepped into the grand cathedral proper. A heavy stench of blood tickling her nose trough her mask. She didn't want to imagine what the young hunter had slain here. Yet the stench of rot and defilement hidden in the blood made it obvious what he had found.
'Cleric's always transforms into the most hideous of beasts.' Eileen thought, letting a wry smile dripping with irony grace her lips. 'And of all those hideous beasts, the vicar's always fall the farthest.'
Ghosting past the statues of the many eyed watchers, she snuck up the stairs. Keeping to the shadows.
In the middle of the grand hall, her target stood with an air of nonchalance.
"Now, now dear. This game of ours has gone on for too long." A smooth baritone voice called out, every word flowing like age wine. It wasn't the voice she had expected for a blood crazed hunter. It was the voice of a sane man. A sophisticated man who had clearly decided that he wanted to hunt more challenging prey and set his eyes on his fellow man.
Cainhurst's bloody crown did nothing more than turn his head at her, staring her in the eyes. Yet Eileen felt her blood freeze to ice in her veins. An inescapable chill falling over her.
"Come out, it is unbecoming of a lady of your age to go scurrying around in the shadows like a rat." The bloody crow called out chidingly. Letting the seconds passed by. Sighing when she refused to move. "What lady reaches your age and lacks manners? Very well, you forced my hand."
Eileen threw herself to the side. A bullet smashing into where her head had just been. Before she had time to catch herself, she darted to the left. Another bullet slamming into the stone's behind her. Feeling moonlight fall over her, she bit back on the sigh that treated to leave her. Smoke rising from the barrels of his twin barrelled repeating pistol.
"Really my dear, what have our. Oh, excuse my poor choice of words, what have your society fallen to, when we can't even share some simple politeness." The bloody crow chuckled to himself, a finger coming up to the wheel on his pistol and turning it. Two bullets' loaded and ready, the barrel of the pistol aimed directly at her head.
Breathing evenly, she pulled into the depths of herself. Taking a step to the right, she disappeared like a ghost in the wind. The world blurring in her eyes, until she came to an abrupt stop. Her right blade coming up to parry away the pistol, while her left blade strained against the metal of his katana.
"Such poor manners on you. Shame. Your predecessor at least had the decency to introduce himself. But, with how quick he was to die, he never got around to teaching you properly I surmise." The bloody crow said, as if her predecessors death' had noting to do with him.
Eileen didn't let his poisoned words goad her into hasty action, she was better than that. Instead she quickstepped into his side, setting herself up to take full advantage of her weapons speed. Unleashing a flurry of blows, her knives twinkled in the moonlight.
Sparks briefly coming to life between the two of them. The bloody crow elegantly backstepping while effortlessly holding back her offense without completely drawing his katana. Choosing to use the side of the blade as a makeshift shield while she hammered away.
Knowing when to adapt on the fly, she quickened to the side. Hastily diverting the quick step to the side, body running completely on instinct. Not having known it was possible to combine the act of drawing a blade with the art of quickening. It was unheard of, yet she had living proof before her eyes. The katana dripping with blood caught between her blades moments from her neck. Sacrificing her balance, she kicked the bloody craw away from her. Razor sharp katana just barely digging into the fabric of her constable uniform.
"Keep your breath even my dear. You breathe in when you start, breath out when you leave." The bloody crow lectured gentlemanly. Lunging at her with his katana drawn, lighting quick slashes pushing her onto the defensive.
Quickening to the side, he was already upon her when she stopped. Blade streaking towards her jugular. Moving to parry them, the soft sound of the trigger being pulled drew her eyes down. A boom thundered in the grand hall; pain raced trough her. The air was knocked out of her lunges as she threw herself into another quickening. Keeping a lid on her panic, she felt confusion bloom to life. The bloody crown not chasing her instead he stood still as a statue. His head locked to the east.
Seeing her chance, she tightened her stomach muscles and quickened again. Sparks falling onto her mask, followed by the hilt of his katana digging into her stomach. A snarl of pain escaping her, the bullet lodged in her gut burning.
"I grow tired of this game of ours." Punctuating his sentence with two other shots, Eileen darted back into the shadows. "Leave, my Queen's summons has been answered." Licking his lips, Eileen could smell the malicious bloodlust wafting of him. "I do wonder who have answered it. Laurance? Maybe Ludwig? Or have Gehrman himself come out from his hidey hole? None the matter, surely this will be a banquet to be remembered."
Turning his back on her, the bloody crow walked over the alter. A snarl escaping him, his katana coming down to crush the beast skull. His hand came to his chest, with gentle hands he unpinned the emblem. Placing the emblem down onto the alter, blood came seeping out of the bone shards. Followed by agonising screams, tormented spectres shooting out from the alter. Rapturing one of her eardrums.
Congealing behind him into a cloudy mist of red. Accompanied by tormented screams, the bloody crow elegantly stepped into the cloud disappearing before her very eyes.
Blinking, confusion shoot trough her. Staring at the quickly receding crimson smoke, Eileen took a breath and gave chase. Her gut screamed at her, yet she pushed trough the pain. Exhaling, and crashing into the altar, having been just a moment to slow.
####
Alfred was in the middle of reciting his prayers when a frisk breeze passed by, bringing with it the scent of lavender and blood. Abruptly standing, he reached his hand towards his wheel. His trusty companion, weapon and torture instrument both. Frowning when he took in the ghostly apparition in the guise of his friend.
"Spirit, wearing a face that is not your own is heresy. Doubly so when it is a friend I hold dear." Grabbing his companion, he hefted his wheel onto his shoulder. "What have you to say."
Instead of answering, the spirit reached into its breast pocket. Fishing out a letter. With a quick flick, the letter spun through the air. Snatching it out of the air, Alfred read over the envelope. His eyebrows rising as he eagerly fished out the invitation. A bloodthirsty grin splitting his lips. The letter was addressed to him, wicked magic at work no doubt, why would the defiler Queen ever write cordially to an executioner?
"Isolde, dear. You know which friend to give my letter to when we reach the castle." The sentence played on loop from the spirit's open mouth.
"Binding a spirit to your will. My friend, I will let this slight go, if only for what you have graced me with." Alfred mumbled to himself. The spirit disappearing before his eyes with a gust of wind.
Setting his wheel down, Alfred turned to the monument he had been praying at. Kneeling and closing his eyes. His heart hammering like a drum in his chest.
"Master Logarius, we will soon meet again, your martyrdom will soon be honoured as it should. Please, watch over me for one last hunt, father. I might not be your son in blood, but you took me in and raised me like your own. Let your faithful son finish what you started."
With his oath sworn, Alfred stood. Blazing faith warming his heart and protecting him from the whispers in his minds and the ants that crawled in his veins.
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Note: As mentioned in an earlier chapter, i'm basing Yharnam to be a metropolis. So imagine that Jaune needs to find a random door in London, New York, Tokyo without any description. It's partly to make sure Jaune doesn't progress too fast. And also because it's way too early for the inevitable three endings chat with Gehrman.
Note: Violet has problems.