Chapter 5 – Playing for Keeps
In which Cardin Winchester has ups and downs in his new home.
"Okay." Cardin held out a snapped stem of the plant that the tribe's healer had said was invaluable. "Smell this."
Long John Silver didn't smell it. He did chew it, though, and spit out the mulched up remains of the stem. Cardin hoped that that would be enough for him to pick up the scent.
"Now, here's what I'm gonna need you to do. Find me as many–"
"Are you talking to a Grimm?" asked Vynce.
"Shut up," Cardin barked. Turning back to Long John, he said, "Find as many of those plants as you can. Got it?"
"ZSSSSSZSSSSZSSSS!"
"Good man."
Cardin dropped LJ a treat in the form of a chunk of fish. Perhaps it was because LJ's first meal (other than snacks he'd stolen from Emerald, which weren't easy to come by) was tuna, but the tiny Grimm tended to respond most positively when bribed with fish. Long John crawled to the hunk of seafood and began to chip away at it.
"I don't think it understands you," said Noona, the elderly leader.
"You'll see. And Long John is mine, so don't you lot get any ideas of trying to poach away his loyalty, or I'll show you just why they put me in charge of Team Cardinal."
Cardin bade LJ search the forest for the nightshade. The rest of his foraging crew were all a bunch of fossils that probably had to manually oil their elbows and knees, but he'd gotten to know them over the past day, and he'd familiarized himself with their names. He figured that sort of knowledge would come in handy if he elected to stay.
The two choices – stay or go – were both still on the table. Cardin longed in his heart for the comforts of home, but he couldn't deny that the prospect of signing on as a Branwen was appealing. He couldn't remember the last time he'd actually looked forward to something, and that feeling was one he wanted to hold onto.
Plus, I still haven't scored with Vernal.
She'd come back to the camp in the early morning, so Cardin hadn't really had much time to put the moves on her. The foraging party left just after sunup, so his hours weren't really conducive to a relationship with that tough cookie of a lady.
That'll all change today. LJ's gonna come back with a buttload of nightshade, I'm gonna look so good, and they're gonna let me start going out on raids.
Nightshade was supposed to be refinable into some crude jungle anesthetic, meaning that it was the single most highly valued plant in the entire tribe. Cardin hadn't actually been able to witness any raids, but he imagined that it would be a dangerous business. After all, if any villages fell to the Grimm and the tribe came around to loot the remains, the raiders could easily get hurt by any monsters that stuck around. Only Vernal, Raven, and about five others actually had aura, meaning that anyone else who got tagged by the Grimm would have to heal the old-fashioned way, hence the need for painkillers.
"It ain't gon' bring back no plants," said Hiide. "Yer wastin' yer time, Card'n. You'd best get rid o' it, lest mo' Grimm come lookin' fer their kin."
The Executioner made a hearty clank as Cardin swung it over his shoulder and rested it on his pauldron. "You challenging me, Hiide?"
The gray bearded geezer backed down at that, but not before shooting Cardin a frosty glare. In a tribe that valued strength, he was even lower than Cardin on the pecking order.
I don't even know why these old folk are still tolerated. Anyone else could easily pry the food out of their hands, or even off them to get something they wanted. The only reason I haven't is because I don't want want to be the only forager left – I'd have to pick up the slack.
He understood how the tribe did things, but he rarely could understand why. After all, the main point of this place was the wholesale rejection of society's laws in exchange for the freedom to do whatever you wanted. Strength made a man king…so why wasn't Raven just making everyone else clean her tent, bring her food, and give her massages all the time? She was easily the strongest, so why didn't everything belong to her? A powerful warrior like her could take what she wanted when she wanted, and it baffled Cardin to no end that she didn't do that far more frequently.
If I were in charge, everyone would be my underling. I'd sit back all day long, kick my legs up, and have a good laugh as the slaves did my bidding.
It didn't matter. Cardin wasn't in charge, so for now, he respected the hierarchy that Raven had made. The future looked bright for him – he'd become the best forager, start training recruits, defend the walls, and then finally get to go on raids. Vernal would be so grateful that he'd succeeded – she was the one who brought him in, so she was the one who stood to gain the most for Cardin's success. Eventually, Raven would age out, and the two of them would live like king and queen for the rest of their days.
I-If I do end up staying, that is.
Cardin's haul was about the same as the previous day's, but this time he hadn't lugged back any dead animals or toxic shrooms. His focus had been more on plucking the more useful herbs that were the most expensive. It was basic supply and demand, a concept that his dad had drilled into his head back when Cardin had been slated to take home the reigns of the family business. That was before he'd gone and gotten himself into trouble and lost his spot to his younger cousin.
Add one more weight to the 'Stay' side of the scale – I could go and shoot up whenever I want, and there's no one to stop me. Hell, I could probably grind up some of these plants and get a pretty good high from it. I mean, I won't, because I still need to turn them in to pay my dues, but I could.
That feeling, the fact that he could, was intoxicating. Cardin could, and no one could tell him he couldn't. Well, Raven could tell him what to do, but her leadership was far more 'hands-off' most of the time.
The foraging party had scouted out a new area today, as they'd pretty much uprooted and collected anything useful in the last sector. With what he had in his pack right now, he would easily have enough to get let back into the tribe. Everyone was supposed to meet their minimum quota when foraging, and Cardin had proven today that he could pull his weight just as well as the rest by bringing in an excellent haul of firewood and cactus flesh. It was still humiliating that the others did so much better than him, but that would change when Long John came back with a mouthful of nightshade.
"Day two, and the boy's still floundering," Vynce said to Opal, though it was clearly meant for Cardin to hear. "You think he's ever gonna catch up?"
"Mind yerself," Hiide whistled sarcastically. "Don't discount that'un just yet. Why his Grimm pill bug's gon' bring back a whole truckload o' shade, I reckon'."
They could laugh it up all they wanted; Cardin knew better. He'd seen a change in Long John that night in the downed airship, one that could only be explained by him growing into an elder Grimm.
Noona shouted out and pointed. "Aye, here it…c-comes…"
Cardin flipped around, tickled pink by the hesitation in her voice. No doubt it meant that LJ truly was carrying in a nice handful of useful herbs, and she was embarrassed by her prior doubt of Cardin's faithful companion.
"MSSSSMSSSSMSSSSS!"
"What'dja bring me, bud?"
Cardin looked down to see that Long John's mandibles were indeed holding something, but it wasn't nightshade.
"OI!" called Noona. "QUIET DOWN!"
Cardin clenched down on his teeth and gritted them in embarrassment.
"Today is a big day, ladies and gents. For today, our little Card'n has become a man!"
Vernal's look was somewhere between amused and dissatisfied. Cardin wasn't pleased to have her feel either of those feelings about him.
"His intelligence – nay, his genius has set him apart from the rest of us mere mortal!" Noona held up the straw-stuffed teddy bear. "Behold, the astounding prize that Cardin's Grimm wrangling has won him!"
Roars of laughter shot through the camp, including Vernal. The foraging party had mocked Cardin ceaselessly before, but they were all reinvigorated by the humorous reaction of the tribe, and their chuckling began anew.
Cardin pushed past them and tried to find a secluded corner of the camp to sulk in, but no matter which way he turned, there was some fool pointing and laughing.
"You really screwed me, mate."
Long John said nothing, instead electing to curl up around Cardin's neck.
"I had to go last at dinner when everyone else had already taken their fill, because I knew I'd be laughed right out of the tent if I wasn't alone."
"jssjsssjsss"
The hiss was weaker, and Cardin was familiar enough to know that meant LJ was winding down for the night.
"I know, I know. It's my fault for asking too much of you. The bear was stuffed with straw, and you thought it was what I wanted cuz I gave you a stem, not the leaves of the plant itself. Don't worry – I'm not mad at you."
LJ's head tucked into Cardin's shirt, and the rest of his body followed shortly thereafter. Cardin was leaning up against the outer wall of the camp, sitting in a corner.
"I'm gonna stay awake tonight. I think I have a good idea what comes next, and I need to be ready."
He wouldn't normally have been so paranoid, the signs were all there. For the entire duration of his evening meal, no one had tried to steal his food.
Not a single person.
Weakness died in the tribe, and there was no doubt that the sharks had smelled blood in the water after today's blunder. The only reason that there hadn't been any challenges so far was because they were waiting for his guard to be lowered.
Tonight was going to be a long night, but Cardin couldn't afford to shut his eyes for a single second, or they might be shut forever.
The body of the first deterred the second, but not the third.
The atmosphere in the camp was different the next day. Cardin tried to act the same as he had before, but there was no doubt in his mind that he was the talk of the town during breakfast.
The first person, a middle-aged woman, had come at him with a knife, all silent-like. Cardin figured she was trying to get a free kill and score some neat gear off the idiot newbie who hadn't yet figured out how to survive in the jungle. When he'd disarmed her, he'd offer to let her go, but that had only enraged her more. She must've thought he was calling her weak.
The third person had been another aura user, probably twenty or so. Cardin hadn't pulled his punches with that guy. The fight was surprisingly quiet. They just traded blows efficiently until Cardin's training gave him the upper hand. The guy fell for a false opening that Cardin deflected using his aura, and when his opponent was off balance, he drove the man's own spiked club into his throat.
It was self-defense. Even the civilized society Cardin had rejected would have approved it.
Cardin wasn't feeling as bad about it as he felt he should have, and that bothered him.
He'd left the two bodies in the center of the camp to make a statement, hoping that would defer future attackers. Only the strong survived, so if everyone saw Cardin was no pushover, they wouldn't try anything. He didn't want there to be a fourth attempt on his life, both for his own sake and for the life of the fourth attacker that he would have to take.
Raven had taken the body of the aura user. The others bristled a little bit at that, but she clearly had them cowed by her strength since no one said anything. She picked the corpse up in her arms and simply walked out into the woods. Cardin had no idea if it was for funerary rites or if she was going to eat it, and he was a little too distracted by his own murderous actions the night before to care.
Vernal had given him a curt nod, then joined the raiding party as they fled out the main gates of the camp. Cardin's spirits lifted slightly, but his regard for the otherwise perfect girl dipped ever so slightly due to his understanding of why her regard for him had risen.
Only the strong survive.
"This sort o' thing don't happen offun," said Hiide. "Now that yer blooded, there won't be no more probl'uns."
Cardin didn't say anything in response to the old man's words of comfort.
"You can take a break today, if you need to keep your strength up," declared Opal. "Jokin' aside, the toy bear yer snake found led the raiding party to their next target, and that's considered tribute enough to keep you in the tribe for today. Rest up. No one else'll try anything; I guarantee it. Raven would skin them alive if they tried to off one of our last remaining aura-users."
"You can't challenge someone who's just coming down from a challenge, let alone two," explained Noona. "Ain't no provin' nothin' by gangin' up on someone. If some'un killed you right now, it would prove that they piggybacked off the first 'n' second folks that tried it. That's not strength – not real strength. Only the strong survive."
"Only the strong survive," chanted Cardin. His heart wasn't in it, but he didn't need to get kicked out now. Not after coming this far to get inducted in.
Cardin did take up the offer to have the day off. The camp wasn't empty, but it was much less crowded, so he decided to explore some of the areas that had previously been filled up by unwelcoming eyes.
The medicine tent was manned by the tribe's healer, a man by the name of Tavery. He noted Cardin's presence, asked if he was hurt, and ignored him when Cardin said he wasn't.
The tents the Branwens used were less tents and more wooden frameworks with thick tarps slung over the top to keep out the elements and provide insulation. This particular structure had a few small, labelled chests where the precious medicines were kept, as well as a bucket of water kept sterile at a low boil by a few Fire Dust heated coals. The tent itself looked small from the outside, but it was surprisingly roomy inside.
Cardin had left that space when an injured boy with a cut on his forehead had come in for bandages.
The next zone he explored was the training grounds that the boy had come from. It was little more than a cleared-out patch of dirt where a woman who presumably was the trainer barked out orders that the kids followed using wooden swords. There were an odd number of kids, so the trainer had told two of them to team up on one kid. It seemed unfair, but the whole camp was rooted on the notion that there was no such thing as fair, and Cardin found himself agreeing. After all, if two people tried to mess that that kid in a live combat scenario, he wouldn't be able to complain about it. Well, he could, but they'd still kill him. With this 'unfair' training, the boy would now be better prepared for 'unfair' team ups when he got to the real world and had to fight for his life against the Grimm or other threats.
I'll be in charge of the brats when I move up in the world.
After watching for a few minutes and getting bored, Cardin left the makeshift battlefield and wandered down the main road until he found himself in front of Raven's tent.
Going in was a bad idea – that much was obvious – but curiosity as to the appearance of the tent's inside burned within Cardin like a bonfire. Raven was gone, so he probably wouldn't ever get a better chance to look inside. Maybe if he just took a quick peak inside, it wouldn't–
"Cardin."
"DAH!" He swiveled around and found himself face to face with the chieftain herself. "I wasn't!"
Raven raised an eyebrow. "Wasn't what?"
"…n-nothing. Can I help you, ma'am?"
Raven nodded. "Follow me inside. It's time."
Raven's tent was different than the others. Not only was the floor wooden rather than just the grass upon which the others were set up, but this one was decorated more finely than most of the rooms back in Beacon. Ornately patterned rugs were littered on the floor, so many that some overlapped others. Barrels and chests were shoved in the corners, with bottles of wine and other imported beverages balanced on top. Raven's bed was the only one in the camp that had real actual pillows, not just rolled up mats to rest your head on.
Wait a second…her bed…
"Uh, ma'am…w-what exactly am I doing in your room?"
Raven rolled her eyes. "Certainly not that. We need to have a talk about how you killed two tribesmen yesterday."
Cardin's eyes widened. He had his mace with him, but if Raven tried something, he had a feeling that he wouldn't be able to fare better than a juvenile Nevermore against an Atlesian flak turret. Still, he reached for it and drew it – better to go down fighting.
Raven waved a hand dismissively. "Not that either. What I mean to say is that we now have an open tent due to its resident being dead. You've earned that spot as a reward for your first kill, but I still need to reward you for your second."
Cardin nearly dropped his mace in surprise. He, an outsider, had killed two of her people, and she was going to reward him for it? This really was a bass-ackwards place.
Raven turned around and began to rummage through one of her chests. "This was left with me by a huntsman not too dissimilar to yourself. I did not win it off of him through even combat, so it is not mine to claim. Thus, it feels appropriate to reward you with–"
"That piece of garbage!"
Raven's face tightened, and she nearly stabbed the still sheathed sword into her floorboards. "It is unwise to decline a gift from your chieftain."
"N-No, not you. The owner of that sword is a sack of crap! He was the one who shoved me in the rocket locker." Cardin reached out and took the sword out of Raven's hands. "I'll gladly take this, if only to shove it into Jaune Arc's gut when I next see him!"
"Ah. The Citron Champion…that would explain it." Raven turned around to close the chest but stopped when her hands were on its lid. "When next you see him…do you not intend to stay with the tribe?"
Oh, right. "Sorry, didn't mean it like that. If I ever cross paths with him, I'll gut that rat, but I'm not gonna go back to Beacon. You were right – I fit in better here than I ever could at that wuss school."
Raven nodded. "That fact that you see Ozpin's gloryseeking fools as such proves that you belong here."
She dismissed him from the tent, and Cardin admired the sheathed sword he'd earned. It was actually a really decent piece of work, even if it came from the hands of a dork. Cardin decided that he would keep it – not for the purpose of using against its original owner, but just for the pride of knowing that Jauney-boy would have to go through Beacon with his familial sword in the hands of his worst enemy.
For dinner that night, Cardin poured himself a can of black beans and a hearty portion of cooked pork. Those two obviously weren't foraged from the woods or made by the tribe but found instead on one of the raids.
Vernal had returned and offered Cardin another stoic nod of her head. Cardin nodded right back and scooted over on his log to make room for her. When she ignored him, he waved her down.
"Hey! Why don'tcha come over and sit with a handsome gentleman?"
Vernal hadn't even opened her mouth to rebuke him when an answer came out.
"Don't mind if I do!"
Noona plopped down right next to Cardin, filling up the seat he'd been hoping to offer to Vernal. Cardin was about to shoo her away when Vernal giggled and sauntered off.
"Such a happy couple," she joked before disappearing into the pantry tent.
Well, he'd made her laugh, so that was progress. But I don't think the girl of my dreams is supposed to be laughing AT me…
"Might want to set your sights a little lower," said Noona, cracking open a bottle of an alcoholic drink labelled in a language Cardin didn't recognize. "Vernal's more or less the second-in-command. Bit of a lofty prize for someone who only just got blooded."
"Blooded." Cardin threw a handful of pork into his mouth and gulped it down. "Everyone says that. Do you need to kill a tribesman to join?"
Noona shook her head. "Nah. It just accelerated the process for…where did you get that?"
Cardin looked down at his plate. "The food? I just picked it up."
"You need to get rid of those beans, right now!"
Cardin pulled back the meal, fearing that this was some scheme of hers to trick him out of his dinner. "Hell no! I took it, so it's mine! My dinner!"
"No, you don't understand, Cardin. Sources of fiber are extremely hard to come by, especially canned foods that don't go bad. They're the only thing you can't take from the shared larders, because they all belong to–"
A loud crash came from across the camp. Cardin looked up in horror as Raven burst forth from the food tent, sword drawn and pointing straight out. Her head shot from side to side until her gaze fell squarely on Cardin.
"YOU EAT ALL MY BEANS, N–"
By the next day, he'd shaken off the excitement that killing two people had brought him and was ready to rejoin the foraging party. Besides, even if he wasn't, he needed to bring home the metaphorical bacon, now that his leeway was spent.
The elderly group and their charge had apparently not done enough damage to the ecosystem in the areas that they'd explored for the past two days, so they'd be going over the same terrain today. Cardin didn't really understand the stuff, so he accepted Noona's commands without question.
Something would have to change today. Cardin wasn't sure that he would be able to comb over the same already-consumed landscape and find enough grub to meet the tribe's standards. If he didn't step up his game, there might be no welcome for him when he got back home.
And that's not all. Right now, I'm a strapping young man who's been assigned the same task as the weak and infirm, and I'm barely scraping by. This is clearly a test of my abilities, and I'm not yet succeeding. I need to figure out some strategy to do better, or I'm going to be stuck in this role for the rest of my days.
Wouldn't that just be the pits? Cardin Winchester, running away to the easy life in the forest of Mistral only to find that he wasn't good enough to do anything better than pluck berries and pick mushrooms off the forest floor.
No, he needed to step it up, and he needed to do it today. The only question was how?
The issue wasn't his speed or stamina. He could and typically had covered ten times as much ground as the other foragers, but he still came back with less. Stealing their sacks was always an option, but he got the vibe that Raven might not take kindly to that. It might be allowed, but it would only prove that he wasn't capable of handling his own work and needed to borrow from someone else.
Maybe I'm not looking in the right places, Cardin wondered as the crew made their way to the drop point. Is there some trick to this, like looking under rocks of a certain color or near running water or something?
He could probably figure it out if he did things by trial and error for a while, but even one day with a subpar haul would get him kicked out of the tribe. There was no time for taking shots in the dark – he needed to be sure.
"Alright. We come back here when the sun falls below that mountain." Noona pointed. "Happy hunting, boys and girls."
Cardin's stomach began doing flips. The clock was already ticking, and he was no closer to having the answer than when he'd set out. Unless he wandered along and stumbled into a miracle, he was done for.
The others were gone, but Noona stayed back for a second.
"You alright, big man?"
"Peachier than a cobbler."
She looked at him like he was speaking in tongues. "A what?"
"A cobbler – you know, a cake with fruits on the inside."
"What's a cake?"
"Huh. Guess you folks don't have baked goods."
Noona turned away from him. "We take what we find. Best of luck, Cardin."
Cardin decided to throw down his hand. "Any chance I could shadow you? You know, pick up some tricks?"
The old woman bent down and plucked a plant near the base of a tree. "Sure."
"Wha…really? Just like that? No bartering or haggling?"
"I can't stop you from watching me, kid. You're allowed to walk wherever you want, and I ain't so petty that I'd skip a whole day of foraging just to prevent you from observing how I forage. That would screw me over just as bad as it would screw you. That said, if you spend all day watching and don't fill your own sack, I won't be sharin' none."
Cardin watched as the old woman peeled back bark and scraped the moss underneath into her sack. She was offering him the chance of a lifetime (one he felt foolish for not realizing was even on the table), but she was also right about him needing to meet his own quota. If he watched her to see how things were done, he wouldn't have enough time to do them.
Damned if I do, damned if I don't. I just need some way to make it through today…
Cardin peered down into his empty bag and made his choice.
Noona shook her head. "I'm glad you took the time to learn from your elders, kid, but that bag of yourn is just as empty as when you started. You ain't gon' be let back into camp if you have jack to offer."
"Don't worry about me," said Cardin. "I'll make do. You said that we're going to a new area tomorrow, right?"
"There won't be a tomorrow for you. You'll be exiled."
"But we're going to a new area, right? A new, fresh sector that hasn't been harvested yet?"
Nona sighed and answered in the affirmative. Cardin could tell she was unsure of why he'd chosen to not fill up his own bag, but he had his reasons. His plan may have been risky, and it certainly would make things tough for a while, but he had a feeling it would pay off in the long run.
"ESSSSESSSSESSSS!"
Cardin turned around and saw that Hiide was the first forager to return, heralded by Long John's enthusiastic warning. The man grunted his own greeting as he lugged a full tote, but the sight of Cardin's own empty bag drew his attention.
"You plannin' on quittin' on us, boy?"
Cardin eyed Hiide's sack, and the man quickly pulled back.
Cardin's hand fell to his mace. Both Noona and Hiide drew in a breath.
Cardin unclipped his mace from his belt. Hiide drew a small hunting knife.
Cardin dropped his mace to the ground.
"Trade."
Hiide eyed him suspiciously. "Come again?"
"Trade. Your bag for The Executioner. It's the best weapon you'll ever see, made of alloyed steel, and I even loaded it up with some Gravity Dust to lighten it up back when I was…in a place with Gravity Dust."
"For my bag?" The elderly man was clearly unsure. "Your mace is worth more."
"Wouldn't you want to make that trade, then?" asked Cardin. "You're getting the better end of the deal."
"No such things as a free trade. What's the catch?"
"The catch, as you would put it, as that your bag is worth more to me than my mace. Maybe not to you, but that bag is a ticket back into camp for me. A trade's only worth it if both parties want what the other has more than what they have. I need that bag. I've no intention of tricking you or not following through on my end of the deal." Cardin rolled his mace over to Hiide with his foot. "Go ahead…assuming we have a deal."
Hiide cautiously handed Cardin the sack. As soon as it was out of his hands, he clutched the large mace and pressed it tightly to his chest, as though he feared Cardin would try to snatch it out of his hands. These fears were unfounded, of course. Cardin had no intention of double crossing Hiide; if he wanted to do so, he'd have simply used the mace to take the bag and come out on top.
Cardin handed Hiide's bag to Noona. "This enough?"
She nodded, dumbstruck. "It's enough to get you back in, but I wonder if you'll even want to come home. You just traded away your only advantage. You won't last the night when the people see you waltzing about unarmed."
Cardin smirked. "You worry about yourself, and I'll take care of myself, 'kay? And besides, I won't be unarmed."
Cardin wasn't skilled with a sword, but Crocea Mors had to be one of the nicest blades he'd ever wielded. The tribesman who'd tried to jump him that night would probably have agreed, but Cardin wouldn't find out for sure since the man was dead.
Cardin wept over the dead man's corpse in the moonlight. Again, it was clear cut self-defense, but Cardin had known this would happen if he went through with his plan, and he did it anyways. The rules of society were supposed to be something he left behind at the encampment's gates, but he couldn't help but hate himself for what he'd allowed to happen.
Then, he sealed up that guilt and moved on. He couldn't afford to be weak. After all, the weak died.
Only the strong survived.
The next morning, the foraging crew moved on to a new area. Cardin made sure to bring as many bags as he could carry with him – but at least three times the number of people in the crew.
He was brimming with sweat when he finished for the day, but it would be worth it. This was how he moved up in the world. Hard work…and a little bit of screwing with the others.
Vynce came back first, his bag only a quarter as full as usual. Opal, Hiide, and Vagrent returned together as a group, with only a full bag's worth between the three of them. Noona had her own share, just barely, but she came back well past an hour later than she'd told them all to.
"H-How?" asked Opal, staring incredulously at Cardin's sixteen full bags.
"Simple. I know for a fact that you lot move slower than a snail stuck to a sloth's balls. I can count on my youth to give me an edge, but I didn't know where to look…until yesterday. Now that I know where the plants grow and how to efficiently find everything courtesy of Noona, I simply busted my chops and harvested the lot."
"Everything?" asked Vynce.
"Everything," confirmed Cardin. "If it takes the five of you three days to cover a patch of land, I just had to do fifteen day's work in one day – but fifteen old person's day's work, something I can handle with my youthful vigor and whatnot. It was tough – really tough – but not impossible. Again, benefits of not being old as dirt and all that."
"So that's it, huh?" asked Hiide. "Cardin comes back home with e'rything, and we don't come home at all?"
"Good strategy," said Noona, smiling forlornly. "You've taken out the competition and secured your place as the only remaining forager in the tribe. Even if we pool our resources and send one o' our lot home, you'll just be rid of 'em tomorrow. We'll never be able to keep up. The quota will be raised to match you when Raven sees we ain't the ones pullin' our weight. Well played, lad."
"Not quite."
This was the good part. Long John crawled out of Cardin's shirt, and Cardin imagined that he'd come to watch this glorious moment in Branwen history, even though it was more likely he didn't want to have to smell Cardin's B.O. from the hard day's work.
He held out a bag to Hiide.
"For my mace."
Hiide didn't hesitate. Cardin took back The Executioner and returned it to its proper place on his waist. It felt good to have it back.
Hiide chuckled. "I suppose I'm goin' to have to work harder from now on, 'less I want you to get me good tomorrow."
"I wouldn't fret if I were you," said Cardin.
He handed a bag to Noona.
Her shock was evident, but she pushed it back, nonetheless. "We don't look kindly upon charity. The weak die, and only the–"
"Yeah, apes strong together and all that, but this ain't charity. One for each of you, in exchange for a glowing recommendation that one Cardin Winchester be promoted to the formal post of Tribe Combat Trainer." He looked around to gauge their reactions. "Win-win all around – I move up in the world, the tribe gets an excellent payday, and you folks don't ever have to worry about being upstaged by the young whippersnapper again. No one has any reason to complain or try to slit my throat in my sleep like you're thinking, Hiide, and we all keep doing what we're best at – foraging for you, fighting for me. I'm not here to make enemies."
He pushed the bag towards Noona again.
This time, with a genuine smile on her face, she took it.
tl;dr Cardin sucks at foraging but is good at killing but then hates killing but then gets good at foraging and uses it to be promoted from foraging to teaching people how to be better at killing aaaaaah
Next Chapter: Love and Let Die
In which Cardin Winchester gets the job of his dreams and woos the girl of his dreams.
Author's Notes
It's my headcanon that Hiide stole the I from Vynce's name and added it to his own. And since I wrote these stupid horrible weird OC's, I made the canon, so it's real canon now.
A quick timeline notice – now that The Murderess and Her Brain is gone, this fic will be shifting to the Friday slot (so that I can post primarily in Coeur's off days). Also, I will not be posting for the following two weeks after this Friday. To make this easier on the Rat's Nest, there will be another post of You, Me, and the Tuna the Friday of this week (the day I stop) in order to smooth this change, frontload my updates at 50%, and bring us to the close of this fic's 2nd three-chapter story arc. I'll already begun posting an extra chapter of Origin Story ahead of schedule, and you can expect another RWBY but Worse at some point.
Happy rats, and don't do crime (like the Branwens)!
