Chapter 43. Beacon Days 25


But for the last page, the tale of Bleudin Arc in the chapters leading up to its end was an unexpectedly happy one.

On a day as monotonous as any other, having fended off yet another round of relatives coming once in a blue moon to beg for favors, he first met the one member of his family who he would come to tolerate. Now, sure, he probably saw her before, but he was never one who cared to remember all the little pests running underfeet while the bigger pests gathered around him. This time, though, the abrupt contact meant that he looked her in the eyes, and had to acknowledge her existence.

Azurelle Arc, then a child of ten years (and a month!), did not ask for money, or a house, or a job for her parents—a ploy that has been tried more than once, he told her later. Instead, as she avoided her other cousins and wondered whether a group of eight siblings would make their appearance at this reunion (not knowing that their family was currently on the outs with everyone), the girl came across a damaged tapestry hanging on the walls. Seeing Bleudin striding past, she had without much thought pointed and asked where it came from. Her mind caught up soon after, and she quailed under the sharp gaze he leveled upon her.

Here, the story could have ended. The girl expected her relative to brush her off. Instead, he walked over to run a hand against the tapestry. In silence, the girl waited, unsure if she did something wrong. It was not an admonishment he gave when he spoke to her, however. With a hand laid on a scorchmark in the woven fabric, he chose rather to tell of its history and how the object came to be in his possession. It was a tale straight out of a certain boy's shelf of adventure novels, replete with dangers and derring-do, and she hung onto every word. The two thus whiled away the hours there in that hallway, and when it came time for the old man's relatives to go home, she alone of them all thanked him for a wonderful afternoon. That, was the day he learned Azurelle's name.

The next week, she appeared again on his doorstep, this time unaccompanied by her parents who were ever so busy. She wanted to know about the jewel-encrusted belt that day. For their snack, she brought a bag of popcorn.

And so went the years, as an old man in an old manor was visited by the one relative who cared. The manor, filled with mementoes of the man's travels and deeds, was to the girl like a book or a movie, but real. She would point out an object that caught her eye, and the old man would chuckle in mirth or tap his chin in thought or sometimes even shed a tear, overcome by memory, before recounting the adventure. It was a walk through his life, his chance to be remembered. He could not have asked for a better audience.

In time, Bleudin learned to bake. Once, Azurelle convinced him to showcase his (admittedly mediocre) singing abilities. He taught the girl to play the piano, she taught him to use some of the newfangled technologies his people kept sending over. The manor became a home, and he became a little less alone.

After the decades surrounded by greedy, uncaring relatives, the last four years of his life must have been some of his happiest.

And Jaune wondered if the man ever realized what a thing he has done for the lonely girl who nobody, not even her parents, paid attention to. That he has given as much joy as he received. Hearing Azurelle speak of him, Bleudin had been her only friend for a long time, and to her he was as different as can be from the man that the rest of the Arcs saw.

...Jaune regretted not knowing that earlier. He might then have tried harder to connect with the old man.

"—and if the rest of t-them would just take an interest and asked him for a s-story, they would find that he was nice and happy and open and- and he did so much! He saw m-more of this world than anyone. But all they ever wanted to talk about is his money!"

For hours he and Verteau held their cousin as she cried. In her grief, and sadness, and rage, Azurelle stammered through the stories of her time spent with Bleudin. As if wanting to go back to those days, or to convince them that it had been real so Bleudin may be remembered for something more than his final end, an unlikable man murdered for the wealth he hoarded.

She'd collapsed to her knees those first few moments after seeing Bleudin's body. Jaune had one hand holding her up, the other shoving back the crowd to keep her from their clutches. Even with the scene before them, or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say because of that, they smelled opportunity. When the captain arrived to return some form of order, Jaune had carried the unresponsive girl away to her room, where Ren and Verteau soon joined them. Together, they comforted her as best they could.

A part of him wanted to know what happened to Bleudin, and what was happening out there now. His Grand-uncle had been murdered, the reason apparent. But who had done it? Were they still on the loose? Is anyone looking for them?

He hated the uncertainty of it. His restless mind burned with the desire to act rather than react.

One thought overrode it all, that Azurelle needed him. Not just for his presence in her time of sorrow but to keep her safe. Bleudin was gone, and if the terms of his will were as rumored, then the target painted on his cousin's back has grown all the larger, while someone had proven themselves capable of murder. As useless as he felt doing so, he agreed with Verteau and Ren to remove themselves from the public eye.

The pounding fists on the door, however, put an end to their isolation.

Jaune leapt off the bed, moving over to the entrance. A look through the peephole showed a trio dressed in the uniform of the ship's security team, one of them pacing to and fro with a worried face.

Jaune called out through the door, "Hello there, what do you need?"

He saw the pacing man pause.

"Who are you, sir?"

"Jaune Arc."

"Is Ms. Arc—Azurelle Arc, that is—in there right now? Did she invite you in?" the man replied, his hand moving to the sword on his hip.

"Yes, she is, and she did. She also has not been notified beforehand of your arrival. Why are you here?"

"We are part of the security force for this ship. The captain has sent us to serve as a protection detail for Miss Arc. If possible, we would like to come in to make sure of her safety."

Like hell, he wanted to say. And so he did, but tactfully. With a threat added.

"Forgive me, but I believe my little cousin will be safer with two Huntsmen and a sturdy metal door in between her and everyone else at the moment. Unless I get confirmation you are who you claim to be, you're staying out there, too."

They broke out in a hushed discussion. One of them mimed a shoulder charge. The probable-leader slapped down the suggestion with a hissed "What if he really is her guest?" before taking out his scroll. A conversation later, he hung up and waited.

The room-provided intercom lit up. A familiar face Jaune saw some hours earlier appeared on the hardlight screen, looking harried.

"Hello! Is this Mr. Jaune Arc?"

"That's me."

"Yes! This is your captain speaking, we would like to confirm that Azurelle is there of her own accord." Jaune looked over to his cousin, one hand pointing to the screen.

"Can you answer, Azy?"

She nodded, and slid off the bed. Moving into view, she raised her voice.

"I'm here. Jaune's a good person."

He gave her a thumbs up for the endorsement, and got a fleeting smile from his cousin before sorrow returned to her face.

"Capital!" Interesting verbal tic, Jaune noted as the captain continued to speak. "My men are outside your door, please rendezvous with them. They can apprise you of the situation forthwith. Farewell! *whisper* At least that'd be one less Arc screaming demands at me. *whisper*"

A younger voice came from off-screen. "Captain, you're still on the call."

"Blast!—*Beep beep beep*"

The display of incompetence tilted the scale against this being an act. Jaune walked over to wrench the door open. He stepped through, and shut it behind him. The security team, unprepared for his sudden appearance, jumped back in a panic.

"The captain has vouched for you. Unfortunately, gentlemen, I believe your presence is unnecessary inside the room. We are as safe as can be without introducing people we do not know on a personal level. If you must, however, then please keep guard on this room from the outside." He flared his Aura to drive home the point, the barest wisps floating around him.

Interestingly, the trio's leader shook his head even as he shrank away from Jaune's show of strength.

"That's—haven't you heard? You're not even safe in your beds!" Jaune furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean?"

"There's been another murder! An Arc again, killed in a room barred from the inside by some kind of ghost!"

Jaune snapped his head towards the other two guards. He expected rolling eyes and scoffs at the joke. They looked unnerved, and were quick to support their leader's claim. Did they believe it?

To the men, he continued to maintain a careful facade of focus even as his heartrate picked up. A jolt of fear shot through him.

A second murder. One more of his relatives, gone. It failed to hurt him like it should. His extended family were not much of family, their exclusion of his branch of the Arcs in recent times saw to that. What scared him was the idea that Bleudin's death had not been a one off, no longer dismissible as a crime of the moment. There was a plot afoot, and the goal... his head turned, eyes drifting towards the door behind him.

Why the second attempt was made on someone else other than Azurelle, he could only guess, but considering her status as the heiress, she was guaranteed to be in the crosshairs. Moreover, it appeared that a door was no obstacle to the killer on the loose.

Unless, of course, this was a ploy to remove Azurelle from a secure location. A ghost? Really?

Trusting the guards just like that would be a foolish thing to do. This sounded like a trap. Although, not trusting them could end up with Jaune and the others attacked in their room. It was more uncertainty to make him doubt himself, except…there's a way for him to deal with this. A plan of action formed in his mind. Decisively, he put it into motion.

He pushed the door open, entered, and slammed it shut before the guards can follow. Walking over to Azurelle, he leaned down to meet her at eye level.

"You know that I want to protect you, right?" She nodded. "If I could, I would be right by your side until we reach Vale. But something urgent has come up that relates to our safety. I would like to go and confirm the situation before it sneaks up on us. That is, unless you prefer I stay. It's up to you."

Put on the spot, his cousin did not protest out of hand, and to his relief seemed to understand the choices he offered. It came down to safety in mind or safety in fact. She bit her bottom lip, torn by indecision.

In the end, with clear reluctance, she agreed to let him go. Giving her a reassuring smile, he placed a head on her head, and ruffled her hair.

"I'll be back, little Azy." He motioned the room's other occupants to join him further away. "Sis, Ren, here's the plan. We're splitting off. I'm going with the security team, and in the meantime, I need you to watch Azy like hawks. Don't take your eyes off her. Also, Ren, wait for my call and be ready to escort my family somewhere else immediately."

Ren answered by taking out his scroll and moving over to Azurelle. His sister, however, objected, "Is this really necessary?"

"That's what I'm finding out. For now, this is just a precaution."

"You're not going to do anything dangerous, are you? There's a killer out there!"

"Of course I won't." He put on his most innocent face. Verteau narrowed her eyes, not believing a single word from his lying mouth. "Come on, sis. I can protect myself. Beacon student, remember?"

"Grrr. Fine, but you better come back soon!" his sister insisted.

"I will. I'll see you later."

Exiting, he shut the door, hearing the electronic lock and deadbolt click into place a second later. He turned to the waiting men, and if they bore any irritation at being left outside, they hid it well.

"Show me where the murder took place," he ordered.

"Sorry sir, the captain has ordered the room sealed." A fair point, but Jaune was undeterred.

"Call him up and get his permission."

"Well...I guess I can, but we're really supposed to stay—"

"That was not a request. Call him, now."

The glow of Aura returned. Unsubtle, but this, he had to see. If their claim turned out true, then the current strategy to protect Azurelle was insufficient.

Quailing, the leader grabbed his scroll and dialed a number. It rang for an interminable long time without answer, then dropped. He gave a weak chuckle, and tried again. It led to the same result.

"Uh, it looks like he's busy."

"So it does." Jaune kept his eyes locked on the other man, eliciting a gulp.

"I can try to call him again in a few minutes? In the meantime, we can stand guard out here. I-if that's okay with you, of course."

Jaune thought on it, crossing his arms and eyes going to the ceiling. The guards watched him, sweat beading on their brows.

Making up his mind, Jaune nodded to himself. Then, without a word, he turned on his heels and began to walk down the hallway. The security team scrambled to catch up.

"Wait, Mr. Arc! Where are you going?"

"I'm going to go scream demands at your captain." But tactfully.

-o-

Had he known the captain just sat down after a long hour of fending off his relatives, Jaune might have been softer in his approach. As it was, he unceremoniously barged into the man's office, causing him to jump a foot off his chair and spilling some of the contents in a whiskey glass on his beard.

Whoops.

"Hello! Uh, Mr. Jaune Arc, wasn't it? Is there something I can do for you?" Going by his face, he was begging for the answer to be a no.

Whoops. Again.

"I'm glad you remember me, captain. How are things?"

"Haha! Things are swell, young man. We are keeping... on top of things! Yes, on top of things."

Jaune narrowed his eyes. The captain sounded very stilted here, and was also unable to meet his gaze for more than a few seconds at a time.

"That's good to hear. I know how busy you are, but we couldn't get you on the line earlier. You must have had your hands full after the second murder." The man sagged back in his seat with an exasperated groan.

"Oh, yes! That was a mess and a half I can tell you. Felt like half the ship was trying to break down my doors, telling me to 'do something'."

"I feel your pain. It must be rough. Let us make this quick so I can get out of your hair, then. I would like access to the two crime scenes so I can confirm a few details."

"What!? No, no, no, I cannot allow that."

"Why ever not? This concerns my charge, she must be protected. And it can only help us to know how the killer operates."

"No! While I sympathize with you, the crime scenes are not for our guests to go wandering through. This is a job for the police."

A reasonable point. However, Jaune rebutted, "Have you consider, though, that the police could be too late. The killer, supposedly, is a ghost, able to get into where they should not. If so, they can wipe away the evidence before we get back to port. We cannot wait until evening for—" The captain flinched, and Jaune stopped talking.

He observed the bearded man, whose eyes still refused to meet his own. Something Jaune said has made the captain feel mightily guilty. Going over his words, Jaune reached an unwelcome conclusion.

"Are we arriving in port this evening?"

The captain hemmed and hawed. Jaune kept up the pressure, peering at him unblinking.

"Ahaha..." No exclamation anymore, Jaune noticed, and the captain looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I have, well, it has been decided that the ship will continue its voyage—"

"WHAT!?" Jaune roared.

"—and we should return to Vale in two days' time. The ship will begin moving again shortly, I apologize for any inconveNIENCE—" He yelped as Jaune grasped his collars and pulled him close. Glowing blue eyes within a raging fire was all the captain could see, as Aura swirled around the younger man.

"Turn the ship around and go back!" Jaune growled.

"U-unfortunately, my hands are tied. Our esteemed guests have made it known that they wish to continue the trip. So long as the bodies and the crime scenes are preserved, they saw little harm—and there is the matter of the news! We need the time to get ahead of the story! If it gets out that Bleudin Arc was murdered on our ship...t-that's only a small part of the consideration, you see." Upon Jaune's snarl, the captain pivoted. "We haven't even mentioned the effect of this on his many businesses. The people from Mr. Arc's PR firm is putting together a message, but they're not ready so, really, it would be irresponsible to commit to rash actions. His holdings will suffer enormously, and his name could be dragged through the mud as a result. Why, it would be chaos!" The captain finished with a nervous grin.

Much ado to say, the other Arcs told him to.

The concern about the ship's reputation was probably genuine, as it reflected on him, but Jaune would bet that even there someone guided the captain's thought process. Everything else he spouted had their influence all over it, and sounded to him like half-baked platitudes concocted to hide something deeper.

Jaune released the captain from his grip, letting him flop back in his seat, and began to pace. His mind raced a mile a minute.

Where he saw tragedy, the other Arcs took the event of last night as a good thing, an opportunity. One among them has eliminated an obstacle to the fortune. As a plus, one contender among them has now been eliminated. Unlike yesterday, this was a time of jubilation, for their dreams of a wealthy life has bloomed once more. In their euphoria, they wanted the cruise to continue in order to celebrate...no, no, that did not sound right. Self-preservation should have kicked in. They can party on land, after all.

Greed motivated them. What fear they had for their own life was overridden by the wish to get their hands on the inheritance. For a ludicrous sum of money, they're willing to take the gamble that a certain girl would be next, all the while convincing themselves that nobody would want to kill them, that if not the girl then it'd be one of their rivals the killer goes after. How excited they must have been to receive news of the second murder, how disappointing for them to hear it was not Azurelle. A cautious person might call it quits there. Yet, having made their bets, these selfish souls chose to let it ride.

Yup, his relatives were scum.

And the captain of this ship catered to the plans of those scum, because...

Jaune spun to face the man, who quailed under his glare.

...because he did not take the possibility that a fourteen-year-old would inherit the vast empire Bleudin had built with any sort of seriousness. This man, and likely everyone working for Bleudin, expected one or more of the older Arcs to ultimately get the bulk, if not the entirety, of fortune no matter what a pesky piece of paper might say. No doubt the lawyers back in the cities were hard at work on this exact issue. In that light, how could the captain refuse the orders of what may well be his future bosses? His job was on the line.

Sitting before Jaune was a self-serving man. More than that, a weak-willed man, who would prostrate himself to anyone with a bit of authority over him, allowing crimes to pass on their say so.

…Not an evil man, for while he surely understood the implication of the requests made to him and did it anyway, he had tried to atone by sending Azurelle some protection. The captain can feel guilt.

Alrighty, then. He can work with this. In the Yakuza business, they call that leverage.

A wolfish grin grew on Jaune's face to the rising trepidation of the captain. Slowly, he stalked across the room, Aura pouring off him in waves, drawing closer and closer until he loomed over the seated figure. When he spoke, his voice came out as a whisper, smooth as silk.

"That, is quite a stance to take, Captain. To so openly flout the laws of our Kingdom. Were you also going to jot it down as an accident? Bleudin Arc, dead of natural causes?"

The captain stared up at the fiery demon gazing down. Unbidden, he gulped.

"W-well, I was a-assured that everyone will support my decision—" A snicker interrupted him.

"How easily you give your trust. Tell me…did they just say they would or did they give you an Arc's promise?" The mystified expression told Jaune the answer. The captain had no idea what Jaune was going on about. He explained. "Because if it's the former, then there's no actual obligation for them to follow through. I know my relatives, so I know that the moment you become a liability, they'll drop you like a rock."

No matter what the man claimed, he should know the heap of trouble he had brought upon his head by doing this. The moment he caved to their demands, the Arcs have placed him in the position of the fall guy. The biggest risk was on him, the harshest punishment would fall on him, and it served Jaune's purposes to remind the captain that he should ask himself: the others might say they would shield him from consequences, but how far were they truly willing to go for his sake? Can he afford to find out?

Those doubts were Jaune's way in. While his standing cannot match that of his relatives in the captain's eyes, he has nevertheless come to possess power over the man. Going directly against the other Arcs might be out of the cards, but as long as he minded his words, he can see about wrangling a number of... privileges for himself. Enough so that this ship will be his oyster to crack wide open.

The captain had turned very pale by this point of the conversation. His mouth opened, flapping as he searched for something he could say. Jaune raised a finger over his mouth to silence him, and continued.

"Luckily for you, I'm not an unreasonable guy. I can play ball. In exchange for me overlooking this poor decision instead of, say, reporting you to the authorities, all I ask is that you do me a small favor."

"But…" The captain sighed, shoulders slumped in shame. "If I go against all of the other Arcs, they'll do the same thing as you and ruin me." Jaune wagged the still-raised finger.

"Don't worry, I won't ask for much. Just think of this as hedging your bet. You're concerned for your livelihood, and did as required by the people who might decide your job. Simply add a person to that list: the girl under my care, who Bleudin Arc considered his granddaughter."

Jaune leaned down to whisper into the captain's ear.

"You've obeyed everyone else. What's one more?"

-o-

Some days, Jaune wished he could split off into multiple bodies. Relying on others was fine and all, but it left him not knowing what was going on until they report in. Leaning on the wall, he tapped a beat against the wooden surface as he continued waiting on and on for his teammate to arrive.

Finally, he spotted Ren turning the corner and waved to him. When his teammate neared, Jaune was quick to inquire.

"Are they—?"

Ren nodded his head. "Yes, they're on the second deck in public view. The security team you sent over is with them now."

"You've reminded those guys of my warning?"

"If they try to bring your sister and cousin anywhere, or let anybody near them, their lives would be forfeit. I'm not sure what you did to them, but they believed it."

"Perfect."

Refuge in audacity, something he knew well. His relatives had cause to harm Azurelle; they desired Bleudin's fortune. Do so with a single witness around, though, and they can kiss the fortune farewell. Put her in a place with many people, and self-interest would stay their hands...up to a point. Jaune had no delusions his relatives may become desperate enough to try anyway. Still, his sister and cousin were safer there than their own rooms in light of what Jaune found.

"Come on in, Ren, and see what you make of this." The two boys stepped into the cabin.

"Huh, I'm surprised the staff gave you free reins here," Ren noted, seeing they were alone. Jaune shrugged, smirking.

"I gave them quite an impression."

The way the guards fell over themselves to fulfil the tasks he assigned made for a nice ego boost. That the superstitious lot were very eager for an excuse to get away from this place helped him out, too.

Having had the chance to look over the crime scene for himself, he admitted it made for a perplexing conundrum indeed. He had his doubts that what occurred was anything supernatural. Nevertheless, the implication was no less worrying.

Jaune stood by the door as Ren meandered through the room, which was a carbon copy of theirs except for the personal effects. A fancy admiral's coat, hanging on a hook. A knife, fallen on the ground. A makeup kit on the vanity. A heavy pair of combat boots, next to a daintier pair of high heels. A suitcase. And a body covered by a sheet.

Blancaire, Blancaire. He hardly knew her.

A militia leader, protecting Bleudin's hometown. She had expensive taste, as seen by the aforementioned coat she appeared oh so impressive in yesterday. Her attempt to get more Lien for her militia clashed with how peaceful her settlement was, but judging by the vicious argument between her and Aunt Grassine, the need was nevertheless great and pressing. More than likely, she had a few unexplainable holes in the budget to fill before her people notice.

Jaune's most recent memory of her came not from the banquet, though. No, she had been there at the scene of Bleudin's murder. How happy she had sounded, as she said two little words.

'Good riddance.'

There's little love lost between them, it was clear to see. No special mention in the will, perhaps?

She stood to gain nothing. Was about to lose everything. A murder that made little sense. Yet, there she was under the white cover. Ren lifted it, and blanched.

"Not pretty, is it?"

Were Jaune, for whatever reason, to take a second peek there, he would behold a head completely twisted to the back. Her expression as can be seen from the side showed absolute terror. Ren replaced the cover and stepped away, breathing hard. It took a minute, but once calmed, he voiced his thoughts.

"To do something like that takes strength. Most amateurs will be unable to perform the feat. This knife by her hand, is it hers?"

"That's my assumption based on its proximity and the fact she was not stabbed," Jaune replied.

"It seemed to have done her little good. I don't see blood on the blade."

A hum of agreement. "According to the security guard I spoke with, it is one part of the reason why the rumors have the killer as a 'ghost', since they apparently cannot be hurt. What I find interesting is her expression. How fearful she was. Something about the killer scared her."

And for a woman who must have seen Grimm during her career, albeit weak ones, that was easier said than done. Facing ravening monsters that looked like something spawned from your nightmares tended to put the more mundane threats into perspective. Were she to be embroiled in a fight, Jaune would have thought Blancaire to express determination or hate. Was she caught off-guard, then, and had only the time to realize her imminent demise? Was the killer wearing a Grimm mask?

"Still, signs point to a physical altercation," Ren mused, "the person sneaked in or were let in, attacked her, then ran away. Not exactly ghost-like behavior."

"The escape is the thing. They say it shouldn't be possible for the killer to leave."

Jaune indicated the windows. They were glass panes securely set in place, with one that can be opened. Outside was empty air, as the room did not feature a balcony. Ren checked the lock, Jaune knew what he'd find. The window was bolted from the inside, with no signs of some tricky contraption having been used to shut it by someone from the other side.

"That leaves the door..."

"Which, at the time, had people outside of it. The guards rounded up some witnesses for me to question. They were either in their rooms or in the corridor when they heard the screams. There was a whole crowd out there that tried the door handle and found it locked. By the time an employee came with a master key, the room had ceased all noise. When they entered, there was only Blancaire where she now lay."

"Not safe in our own beds, indeed."

"Quite. If the killer can enter and escape a locked room unseen, then they have the run of the ship."

Ren scanned the room with care. "We should return to the others."

"Not yet, I'm got another destination in mind. Bleudin's quarters. Let's go see what happened there."

"You're serious? We already know what the killer's capable of. Your cousin could be in danger. Should that not take precedent? Investigating crimes can be left to the police, Jaune."

"What can the killer do when she's surrounded by witnesses? On the other hand, were we to give them time to cover their tracks, they'd escape upon landfall and make an attempt at her home, or her school. In the immediate term, we have two days on this ship. It's not possible to keep a watch on her forever. The best way I see to ensure her safety is to find the culprit. Also..."

"Also?"

"I want the whole ship to know that I'm on the killer's tail. It's a little trick I learned from Melanie and Miltia. We're trapped on this ship for the next two days, but so's the killer. They've got nowhere to run. I'm hoping that once I announce my intentions, it would provoke them to set their sights on me as the priority."

"Jaune, that sounds very...not good."

The blond laughed, and said, "Why do you think I called you here? I need someone to watch my back before the killer tries to stick a knife in it. With two of us and one of them, I give good odds that we'd win that fight. And this way, we would be in the most danger, not my cousin."

Ren stared askance, no doubt floored by his genius. Breaking from his stupor, the other boy threw his hands in the air.

"You're mad. Or stupid."

Jaune mimicked his teammate, his hands going up. "Or both! But I'm still alive, and let's make sure I stay that way, yeah? Now come on, let's go see Bleudin's room."

AKA the other place that the killer was able to get into.

-o-

A left turn, a right, up the stairs, reverse course, a shorter flight of stairs, another left, and a walk down a passageway put them in front of an ornate set of doors.

Waiting for them there was a man in a security uniform, a maid, and a bellhop. The former saluted Jaune as he approached.

"Sir, I've done as you requested. We've asked around, and as far as we can tell, she—" He indicated the maid. "—was the last to see Bleudin Arc last night, and he—" The hand pointed at the bellhop. "—was the first to find his body. They have agreed to answer your questions."

"Thank you very much. You have done an excellent job, and I appreciate your aid in my investigation." The guard beamed with pride. Jaune noticed the incredulous look on Ren's face, and nudged him with an elbow. "Know that I will commend you to the captain. Keep up the good work."

The guard, over the moon, gushed, "This was the least I could do, sir! People like you risk your life to keep us safe from the Grimm, how could I not help? If there is anything else you need, just ask!"

Jaune continued to pile on the praises before sending the guard to reinforce the security team protecting his sister and cousin. All the while, Ren stared a hole in the side of his head. As they smiled and waved to the departing man, the other boy hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

"Jaune, what did you do?"

Jaune hissed back, beatific grin on display, "Like I said. Made quite an impression. Oh, and if anyone asks, just tell them we are Huntsmen, full-stop."

Speak with authority, walk with purpose, and he can fool the world. The reputation of Beacon carried far, and he had borrowed that image to imply he was far closer to a Huntsman than a student. It was technically true, too, as the word can be used in general terms. And, hey, he did face off against giant rampaging Grimm the size of buses even if he left out a few details in the retelling. The stories of those feats wowed the security guards enough that they believed him a bona fide pro, and deferred to him with visible relief.

He already blackmailed someone on this trip, what's a bit of fraud tacked on to that?

A couple decades' difference, his mind supplied.

N-no matter. As long as nobody made a fuss, he was golden—

"Aren't you two a little young to be Huntsmen? Pretty sure I'm older than you," a snide voice sounded out.

Cold sweat poured down the back of his neck. The maid, her arms crossed, leveled a dubious look at the pair of Beacon students. One foot tapped the ground impatiently as she waited for an answer. Next to her, the bellhop had a thoughtful expression, his companion's question causing him to wonder the same. The witnesses have turned hostile!

"Age is a poor measure of ability," Ren deflected. As wise as he sounded, the jittery shaking detracted from his persuasiveness. Thinking fast, Jaune decided his best course was to go on the offensive.

"I thought you wanted to cooperate. Why the sudden change of tune, hm? Seems mighty suspicious to me," he accused. The maid rolled her eyes, her hands raised in mock surrender.

"Whatevs, dude. Just saying, if I'm wasting my break on some kids playing pretend..."

Was she... was she blackmailing him? Was this karma for his crimes? Jaune gulped.

"We're as serious as can be. Right, Ren?"

"Yep. Just two Huntsmen, eager to catch a killer. Very suspicious-I mean, serious."

"Riiiight."

The skepticism remained strong with this one. Jaune's hand reached for his wallet. In his mind, calculations for the optimal bribe were being computed at lightning speed. It did not get to that point, though, because the unwitting bellhop came to their rescue.

"Uh, hey, maybe we shouldn't piss them off..." The bellhop whispered urgently, pulling on the maid's sleeve. Sensing weakness, Jaune pounced.

"An excellent attitude! What use is fighting among ourselves when there's a killer on the loose?" Jaune reminded them. The bellhop paled. "Aren't we all on the same side, united in not wanting to get our necks twisted front to back?"

The details on Blancaire must have filtered out to the rest of the ship, because the bellhop seemed familiar with what that referred to. He looked downright sickly, and Jaune knew he had him.

"Come on. Let's get inside, and you can tell me your version of events."

Giving them no time to object, he turned the doorknob and pushed into the room. Ren followed on his heels, holding the door open for the two employees. After some hesitation the bellhop came in and, as one, they looked back at the maid left outside to see what she would do.

Another eye roll, and she joined them. Ren closed the door.

Almost immediately, the four of them zeroed in on one particular spot. Bleudin's body has long since been taken away, leaving the dried blood to stain the expensive carpet. It had turned a dark brown.

The bellhop whimpered at the sight, unable to tear his gaze away, and even the maid was affected, rubbing her arms as if feeling a chill. Jaune and Ren fared better, having witnessed the state of Blancaire a scant twenty minutes earlier; they soon recovered and moved on to study the room. Still, whatever good cheer they had was gone.

"You might think us amateurs, miss," Jaune idly commented, peering at some of the papers spread out on a desk, "but I assure you that we're going to do our best, which is better than what any of my relatives on this boat is willing to do. Bleudin Arc didn't deserve what happened to him."

He left the papers behind, deeming them unrelated, and walked a clockwise circuit around the massive space. Ren went the opposite route. They met at the glass door to the patio, and his teammate pulled on the handle. The door slid open with ease.

"Unlocked," Ren stated. He walked into the early morning sunrise, before turning around to consider the sides and the area above of the patio. A sidestep, and he was peeking over the balcony. Jaune left him to it, already getting a sense of the conclusion the other boy will arrive at. He was more interested in the interior.

Bleudin's quarters were impressive, as befitting his status as the ship's owner. The furniture felt heavy to the touch, stately in appearance. Paintings on the wall had frames gilt in gold. The bookcase boasted collections of thick tomes. An elegant, polished globe sat on the desk. All the things that let people know this place belonged to a rich, well-learned person.

What it lacked were the things that said Bleudin was here. No personal effects strewn about, no assorted knick-knacks to spruce up the place. The kitchenette was spotless. The hot tub was covered. An indent in an armchair and a book on the adjacent coffee table marked the spot that saw the most use. A suitcase sat by the bed; Jaune opened it to see a few sets of clothes but naught else. He got the sense that even though Bleudin owned this ship, he didn't like it much. They can probably say that about most things in his life.

His wandering ended with him before the bloodstains. He lowered himself to crouch on the balls of his feet. Up close, more speckles of dark brown became visible on the carpet. His memory superimposed the body of Bleudin over it, the older man's blank eyes staring directly into those of the younger man. Peering down at the place where the man died, at the center of a room he never enjoyed, Jaune thought it a poor end. He gave a long sigh.

"W-were you close?"

Jaune lifted his head to look at bellhop, who bore a fretful expression on his face.

"It's just...I know most of the passengers didn't like him. They were acting pretty happy the last few hours. Ordered wine and food and everything..." He stopped as Jaune shook his head.

"We weren't. Like, at all. There's some bad blood between him and my family." A pang of regret made itself known. "We had our first actual conversation last night at the banquet, where I confirmed for sure that he's a bit of a prick… don't tell my cousin that." Instinctive chuckles burst out from the bellhop and the maid. An amused snort behind his back told him Ren had returned. "Still, he had an interesting life. Had a lot of stories to tell. And for one person in the world, he could be downright kind. He was a prick...but not a bad person. I wish I knew that earlier." He finished in a whisper to himself.

One more day. The best Jaune could say of Bleudin was not much in the end, but if they had one more day that could have changed. They were supposed to meet for breakfast a couple hours from now, an agreement Azurelle managed to wrangle with a lot of grumbles from the two male Arcs. Jaune's protests back then were done half for show, as he found himself enjoying the spats they had at dinner, and was in fact looking forward to another good row over some inane subject. What could have come about from that? Perhaps, one conversation would lead to two, to five, to ten. They could have struck up a friendship, and worked together to spoil his cousin rotten. Somewhere down the line might be an apology by Bleudin to his mother, followed by a reconciliation between family.

Then some absolute fuck decided to go and kill Bleudin, cutting short whatever could have been. It can make a person quite angry, when that kind of thing happened. He started this plan to ensure Azurelle's safety, and that was still his chief concern, but he'd not be averse to getting some revenge in the old man's stead.

Jaune inhaled a deep breath, and as he exhaled the wisps of Aura that had risen around him dissipated; his fists unclenched. Standing up, he gave the employees a wan smile.

"Why don't we move on to your stories? Miss, can you tell me where you saw Bleudin last night?"

No sassy quips this time, the maid answered, "Right, um, I saw him when he left his room yesterday—"

"For the banquet?"

"After that. I was mopping up spilled drinks over at the port side corridor on this level… that's the left side of the ship when facing front," she corrected, seeing Jaune's and Ren's confusion, "so when I was doing that, I saw him walk by, looking all stone-faced in that way of his. I didn't think much of it and kept working. Went room by room cleaning after all the stupid drunkards so they can return later to mess it up. After a bit, Bleudin came back, probably heading here." Jaune frowned.

"About how much time passed between when you saw him?"

"Maybe half an hour?"

"Hmmm. On the way back, was he fine? No signs of blood or anything?"

The maid nodded, and there ended her testimony. Jaune then focused on the bellhop.

"You didn't catch him outside at any point last night?"

The bellhop shook his head. "I didn't even see him get on the ship. The only time was, well..." He indicated the bloodstain. Ren cut in.

"Why you were in this corridor, anyway?"

As part of his duties, it turned out. Bleudin's wing of the ship provided a route that, while circuitous, avoided the more populated passageways. Since every other room in this corridor was meant for the old man's use, the only people that went by here were those using the same shortcut or wandering passengers who did not understand the ship's layout, such as Jaune in his quest for a place to sleep. It was a boon to employees like the bellhop, whose task last night involved pushing a cart laden with food and wine from the kitchens to a lounge on the other side of the ship.

"And you were the first to see him?"

"As far as I know, but there were some passengers coming down the opposite way, too. The door was open, so I looked in and saw the body. I might have screamed a bit, then the passengers took a look and they started yelling. I think they called other people over because the next thing I know, everybody was crowding around the door."

And Jaune arrived some time near then.

"You said not a lot of people come through here, so this could gone undiscovered for a while, couldn't it?"

"It doesn't get much traffic, but it's not abandoned, you know? I would guess that it can be empty for ten or fifteen minutes max before somebody goes by."

Fifteen minutes can put a person a fair distance away. The full length of the ship, if they were fast.

"One last thing. Did you get a close look at his wound? What made—?" The bellhop rapidly shook his head.

"No way, man! There was just so much blood that I didn't want to get close." He leaned nearer, whispering as if he was sharing a great secret. "I heard someone from Security said whoever did it, t-they carved into the wound."

Ren blanched. "Why would they—?"

"He didn't know, and I didn't want to imagine."

Everyone else concurred with the sentiment, showing various levels of disgust at that revelation. The bellhop was starting to turn green again. He heaved lungfuls of air, trying to keep down his stomach contents. Sensing the limit of what the two employees could handle, Jaune brought the questions to a wrap.

"That's everything that you two recall?" They nodded.

"Alright, then. I think that's all we'd need from you. Thanks for helping out like this. A lot of people wouldn't. You're free to go back, and I'll make sure you get something for your troubles."

The two employees seemed happy to be appreciated, perking up at the praise. Though, the bellhop became worried.

"What about the killer?"

"Them? Oh, don't worry overmuch. You aren't the target." Jaune smirked. "Not blond enough."

The maid quirked an eyebrow. "And what about you, blondie?"

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly, and she winced.

"Shit. For what it's worth, good luck, kid."

The bellhop added, "Same, dude. You don't seem bad, so don't die. I hope you catch whoever did this."

The maid threw the two Huntsmen a lazy salute, and exited the room. The bellhop followed her out, waving at them.

Jaune waited for a while to make sure they were gone, then turned to Ren.

"So, what are your thoughts?"

Ren sighed. "In some ways, this murder is simpler to understand. There are many avenues for someone to get on the patio. If the sliding door was unlocked, then it's an easy entry. Even easier than that—"

"—would be for them to use the front door, seeing as they left that way."

"An empty corridor. They just have to wait for a chance to make a run for it."

"I wonder if they engineered a reason for him to leave, so they could sneak inside," Jaune mused.

Ren indicated the door. "Why would they? They can just knock and make up an excuse to be allowed in. Then, once there, they attacked."

"That's if they intended to kill him." Ren's face showed confusion, so Jaune explained. "I'm starting to think the rumors on the inheritance might be exaggerated. See if this makes sense to you. Let's assume the killer didn't start out as a killer—"

"Alright. That is how it usually goes." Jaune mock-punched his teammate's shoulder for that quip.

"Smartass. You know what I mean. SO, the would-be killer hears that Azy will get everything. They get worried, and came up with the idea of going through Bleudin's room to see if he left any evidence confirming that. A distraction got Bleudin out of the room, perhaps by setting up a meeting with him on the other end of the ship. The person goes in, found the evidence—could be the actual will itself—and did not like what was written there. Bleudin comes back, and they decided the only way they'll see money is if they killed Bleudin. Then, tellingly, they went after Blancaire."

"You think Blancaire is a beneficiary of his will?"

"Her, and possibly others. What if the rumors were wrong, and the will had more people on it than just my cousin? That explains why they left Azy alone. If she was the sole inheritor, the killer's best move would be to go straight for her."

"It fits," Ren concluded, "but after hearing about your relatives, I can't imagine your Grand-uncle caring about them enough to leave them a single Lien."

True, that was a weakness in his theory. Bleudin disdained everyone except Azurelle. Yet, he had been swayed to give them money in the past, albeit at a pittance compared to what he owned. It fits.

Ren, seeing him grow quiet, said, "I had a thought earlier. The bellhop mentioned how the killer carved into Bleudin's injury. I'm sorry to say this, Jaune, but by the sound of it they might have used torture on your Grand-uncle. If they saw the will and didn't like how it is distributed..." Jaune saw a flaw, and brought it up.

"What would be the point? Did they want him to change it? No, there'd be copies of the original kept by a lawyer or whoever. A quick comparison of that and some document Bleudin signs shortly before his death, and the changes will reveal the obvious culprit. Better to get rid of everyone in the will, then put forth their claim as one among many afterward. With a strong enough position among the claimants, they can end up the wealthiest of the bunch." In his mind, the faces of those who matched the criteria flashed by. "Besides, the spot they struck is too risky if they needed him alive. He could lose all his blood before they were finished."

"Damn. Okay, that made more sense, but it doesn't explain why they did it."

"I think…I think that part occurred afterwards, to get a bullet out—or a crossbow bolt or whatever else—so they can hide how they killed him. It wouldn't be hard to bring weapons on this trip. We Arcs enjoy our mock duels and shooting contests, and the employees know that."

"It fits," Ren decided.

"It fits," Jaune echoed. "And that leaves us with one issue remaining. Aura."

Specifically, Bleudin's Aura. He was old, he was sick, but he was still a step above helpless, able to put up a defense. Having traveled outside the cities, he undoubtedly had experience with combat. Moreover...

"Aura would allow him a burst of speed or strength in a pinch. If the door was unobstructed, what stopped him from escaping? If there was a fight, then where was the noise? Or damages to the room? I see one possibility."

Ren agreed, nodding. "Our killer was confident of their chances against someone with Aura, and can win unarmed against Blancaire Arc who wielded a knife. It is clear that they possessed Aura themselves—"

"—yet, they did not truly fight, because here we see no signs of a struggle, only a single wound. So, what's your bet, Ren?"

"A strike empowered to the point where it was faster than Bleudin can react and strong enough to overpower his defenses in a single instant. The locked room escape is entirely mundane. You?"

"That they bypassed the Aura altogether, much like how they bypassed solid walls. Two aspects of the murder method in one neat package."

"Huh. An elegant solution. I'm not sure which scares me more."

"You're telling me."

Yes, they saw one way for the killer to commit their deeds. The worst, most troublesome way, because it still could be as myriad as the stars.

A Semblance.


Author's Notes: Maybe, just maybe, Jaune making himself bait was a bad idea.

Woooow, look at how neatly that theory fits together. To figure out the sequence of events so fast, Jaune's such an amazing detective... heheheheh.

Stacking one crime on top of the next, that's how a Yakuza succeed! Wait, no, that's just how he digs a hole for himself. But when a killer's on the loose…