Hi and welcome to my first chapter. I've always been interested in writing but never really taken the time to sit down and give it a go, so I've no doubt the result will be sporadically updated and the writing itself rough, but I'm hoping to improve with time. This will predominantly be about an OC of mine, alongside most of the main cast in season 1, so if that fails to float your boat consider yourself warned.
Alcib woke suddenly in the early morning dark, Jerking his body awake like he was trying to drag himself to safety from the danger of his sleep. He had had the dream again. Screwing his eyes tight shut, he could still picture his sister and the black beast, the red eyes and redder blood. He sat up, giving up on sleep, shivering in the chill winter air that drifted through the thin walls of his room, and quickly pulled on the old fur lined winter boots tucked by his bed. The leather was cracked and worn, but the boots were warm and Alcib sighed in gratitude as they slipped onto his feet. Wrapping himself in as many of the blankets as he could, he wandered over to a thin copper pipe that ran along one of the rooms cracked plaster walls. He poked the pipe cautiously, then sighed. Ice cold.
He walked down to the kitchen, a small candle in an old clay holder in his hands, grumbling as he saw exactly what he knew he would. In the small dark room, the candlelight illuminated the cabinets, bare wood covered with his mother's elegant paintings of creatures of Grimm running through trees, drawn blue with the dye she made from berries, and his sketchy attempts at Huntsmen and soldiers nobly fighting them off. There were drying herbs hung over the old table in the centre of the room. Alcib ran his hands over it as he wandered past, feeling the pits and cuts covering the surface, the rough wood scarred from years of use. Coming to his target, he sat down in the old wooden chair by the boiler. It was a simple thing, a small black metal box with a chimney disappearing into the ceiling above, the chimney wrapped in a spiral of copper pipe that ran along the wall and through a small hole drilled for it into the next room. It too was cold, although as Alcib opened the door he was surprised to see that it had a small pile of red embers cheerfully smouldering at the bottom of the box. He grabbed a small log from the basket sat beside the boiler, throwing it in and watching in annoyance as the embers darkened, cooling, the log smoking but not catching. Sitting back in the chair, he groaned, pulling the blankets closer around himself, as if trying to draw whatever heat they could provide into himself. His eyes dropped back towards the boiler, but stopped halfway, coming to rest on another box sat on a shelf above the boiler. It was a small wooden box, and in it, Alcib knew, was the solution to his problem. A Fire dust crystal, a rare luxury his father had recently been gifted by the overseer at the local SDC mine down the road. Reaching up, his hand had only just touched the box when a voice came from behind the him, breaking the quiet of the early morning.
"not a bloody chance, boy. Put that back where you found it, or you can go win me another one from the miners. Good luck with that." the voice was strong, deep and tired, and despite the words there was no real heat in it.
"Oh come on, old man. Its freaking cold, if we can't use it in the dead of bloody winter when can we use it" Alcib responded, sitting back down with a huff, arms crossed, glaring at the smouldering log. Alcib's Father, Alochus strolled over unhurriedly to squat next to Alcib, staring in at the small fire. In contrast to Alcib he was wearing a thin shirt and trousers, seemingly unconcerned with the cold. He was a broad man, thick arms darkened by the sun and coated in old, white scars, flowing up under his sleeves. Alcib glanced up to his father's face, illuminated in the half light of the candle. He had a deep red beard, flecked with grey, his long hair pulled back away from his face. Alcib watched as he stared deep into the smouldering fire, his eyes gaining a distant look and a deep, melancholic air.
"Dad? Dad!" Alcib called out as loudly as he dared in the quiet of the early morning, staring at his father in surprise. Alochus jerked up as if shocked, his gaze flicking around wildly before settling on Alcib. His eyes were wild and angry for a moment before clarity filled them, his muscles relaxed and he let out a long, juddering breath, shaking his head.
"Sorry, sorry. Went away there for a second" Alochus responded with a grin and a rueful chuckle, reaching barehanded into the boiler and retrieving the smouldering long. The smile didn't quite reach his eyes. Alcib didn't bother to mention it. "Well, this is half the reason you wanted to use the crystal. Too bloody impatient, you are, wanting something grand but not taking the time to coax it to good. Watch and learn." As he said this, Alochus reached into the basket, pulling out thin dry sticks. He reached in and placed them down in the coals of the fire, pushing his fingers into the dirt at the base, pulling the embers up in a shower of sparks to sit on top of the kindling, showing no discomfort at the sparks dancing on his skin.
Alcib responded cautiously, still staring "Yeah, I know I was impatient, it was too cold to think. Are - are you ok dad?"
"yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just, well, the past snuck up on me last night while I was doing the late shift. This guy, I haven't seen him for 18 years, and then all of a sudden, bam he comes marching in out of the winter cold like a bad memory, demanding a drink and a room in that order. Got me paranoid I guess, feels like a bad omen, like a bit of the bad old days. Looking at him I remembered what it was like, why I left." Alochus continued to stare into the embers, still lost in thought. Without moving his gaze from the fire, he reached to his side, grabbing the log that Alcib had selected and placing into the boiler once more, now with a merrily cackling fire within it. Again, he showed no sign he noticed the flames dancing round his hand. "Anyway, you'll probably meet him this morning I'd guess. If he ain't too hung over that is. Go on, sun's starting to rise, time we got to work, off you go."
Throwing on his jumper and coat, Alcib trudged into the crisp air of the early morning, shivering involuntarily as the cold quickly came through the patched holes in the old jacket, he set off jogging towards the barn attached to their home, crunching over the fresh snow that had fallen overnight, powder already seeping through cracks in his shoes, soaking his socks. The building was a large, squat building, shaped like a horseshoe. The majority of the centre was run as an Inn, with one end of the horseshoe hosting a small barn built off the side wall of the building. On the side he left was a section of the house, partitioned off inside long ago, that served as family home for him and his parents. He had heard from a family friend that the whole building had been their home, when his father was still a huntsman, but since he retired, the Inn was established to pull in money. Reaching the barn, he threw open the doors, surprised to see two new horses sat in the stalls, rather than the one he was expecting from his fathers late night visitor. One was a handsome grey creature, proud and alert despite the early morning and the cold conditions, its tack sat nearby on the top of a small cart, a lid padlocked onto the top. It was simple tack designed for pulling the cart it lay on. The other horse was a more common thing, a small, local breed that was good for working fields in the summer but apparently too stubborn to do much more than fight on long rides. Alcib was surprised to see that in contrast this horses tack consisted of riding saddle and bridle. Chuckling at the contrast, he moved with practice ease through the barn, throwing hay and filling buckets, before tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, and rushing through the cold to the main entrance to the inn, running in and slamming the door behind him.
He walked into the room, already feeling the bitter cold start to lose its edge, the frost on the windows receding as the dim morning sun started to shine in, illuminating the room. It was a large on, tables strewn across the majority of it, with a small fireplace tucked against one wall, and a bar at the back, with a door behind it. Alcib could smell the scent of stew and fresh bread drifting through the door already, from the kitchen where he knew his father would be, and so he busied himself with preparing the room for guests, taking chairs down and tucking them under tables, taking stock of the drinks at the bar. He was surprised to see two drained bottles of whisky tucked under the bar. It was the cheap, nasty stuff they only ever broke out when payday rolled around for the Mine workers and they got too drunk to care about the difference. Next to the bottles were two empty, used glasses. Alcib shook his head, and wandered over to the fireplace, building a fire up in the hearth. He had been surprised to see it empty. During winter, his dad had always built it as far back as he could remember, stoking it every morning before he made it downstairs to work. He didn't know if he'd ever seen the fire cold in winter. He reached for the matches, cursing as he saw the box empty, and grumbling under his breath, grabbed the old lighter tucked behind the matchbox. It was an old, grimy thing, and it performed about as well as it looked, the odd spark jumping out from it to land ineffectively in the kindling as Alcib attempted to light it. He reset himself, and prepared to try again when a voice come came from behind him.
"looks like that's going well, kid. Here, let me get that." It was a gravelly voice, low and rough, but Alcib could still detect the amusement in it. The voice reached his arm over towards the fire, and as he stood and shifted aside, he saw the face attached to the voice. It was somehow young, yet ancient, a full head of steel grey hair sat on a face devoid of wrinkles or blemishes, but with tired eyes. As he grinned at Alcib, nodding at him as he leaned over the fireplace, Alcib got the sense the man's eyes were that of an man who had seen a lot, not much of it pleasant. The man reached into his pocket, pulling out a large red stone, and ran it along the capstone above the fireplace. A shower of bright red sparks rained down over the fire, shocking him. He threw his hands up over his face, and by the time he put his hands back down, a roaring fire was burning a strange, unfamiliar orange, and the man was standing back upright, chuckling quietly at him. He held the red rock, now glowing cherry red out in one hand, and had a small cardboard box in the other. He reached the box to his lips, drawing out a cigarette, then held the rock to its tip, watching the smoke starting to curl up before taking the rock away, shaking it and pushing it back into a jacket pocket. He took a long drag, then breathed out with a satisfied sigh, releasing acrid smoke into the room. Alcib wheezed and coughed, backing away from the man in surprise. Two years ago, Alcib and a friend from town had snuck away one autumn night with a pair of cigarettes he'd stolen from his dad and hid in the woods outside the town walls. The cigarettes had apparently been cheap and rough, but the pair lit them and put them to their lips. Alcib had managed two draws of his before dropping it to the floor, hacking and reaching for the water they had brought. His friend managed three, before throwing up in a nearby hedge. The cigarette this man was smoking made that memory smell wonderful, like fresh flowers. It put him in mind of tar and death.
"not in here, Qrow. Those smell even worse than the shit you smoked back in the day." Alochus' voice drifted over from the bar, where he had stepped out from the attached kitchen, the smell of stew drifting out into the room, fighting a losing battle with the cloud of nicotine. It was tight, a strained edge of warning in his tone, as if he was having to hold back. He levelled a withering glare at the man, Qrow, who grinned entirely unapologetically back at him. Grabbing the cigarette out of his lips, he threw it behind him, where it bounced off the back wall of the fireplace, falling into the fire. In the same motion, he brought his hand back up, and a beaten old silver hipflask appeared in his hand. He lifted it, took a swig, and tucked it away, turning his gaze to Alcib. He cast an eye over Alcib, and to his bemusement the man seemed intrigued, glancing between his father and him. His grin widened, and he let out a bark of laughter.
"Well well, I guess you took inspiration from Jack after all. Kids got your eyes Al."
Alcib was fascinated. He'd never met anyone from Alochus' past before, and knew very little about it. No matter how often he'd begged and pleaded him, his father never went into details, sometimes bringing the few stories he did tell to a crashing halt, to Alcib just when they were getting good. Wondering who this Jack that Qrow had mentioned he turned to his father, but the question died on his lips. His father had always been a calm man, prone to introspection. He'd seen him angry before, a hot anger that burned fiercely, and burned itself out quickly. This was a different anger, one he'd never seen before. It was cold and calculating, a hard look. Alcib shuddered inadvertently when his father levelled that gaze on him, ignoring Qrow.
"you have work to do, son. Get to it." the words too were cold and emotionless, demanding obedience, and Alcib found his legs moving before his mind caught up with the instruction.
"yes, Dad, of course. I-I'll serve the stew soon as it's ready." Alcib hurried away entering the kitchen, and quickly leaving laden with bowls of stew to see his father and the new man, Qrow sitting down at one of the tables. The grin that had been plastered on Qrow's face was gone now, replaced by a more serious look. His eyes took in the room and saw the other new face he didn't recognise. A teenager, about his age, sat on a table on his own in the corner of the room, looking around the room. Alcib watched him as he walked over to him. He had a wide eyed, nervous look on his face, his eyes darting to the door every few seconds, as if waiting for someone to arrive. Alcib cleared his throat as he approached the table and the boy jumped in surprise, turning to him.
"hey, I guess you came in last night?" Alcib asked, putting down a bowl. "We do a stew for the winter months, it gets too cold otherwise and, well, we did it anyway for breakfasts when it was dark early, so we just started doing a bigger batch. Where'd you come from, if you don't mind me asking? Did you come with that Qrow guy?"
"no, no I didn't come with him, I've never met him. I, uh, flew into Ternal and rode from there." at this, Alcib made a noise of understanding. Ternal was a large town about 10 miles from his home of Moyari down a road that was often left to snow over in the winter.
Alcib continued talking, only half interested, mostly thinking about how to approach the other table "Ternal huh? Why leave there? You going somewhere good? Not much out here in the sticks besides Ternal to be honest. Where you heading?"
"Vale, eventually" said the other boy, between slurps of stew. "I'm heading to a place called beacon. It's a school..."
"holy shit, beacon? You're gonna be a huntsman?" Alcib cut him off loudly, suddenly focused on the conversation. He stared at the boy with newfound interest, looking away from Qrow and his father. He'd always imagined huntsmen to be strong and upstanding, almost superhuman. This boy wasn't that. He was instead a tall, awkwardly gangly teenager, his arms too long both for his frame and for the sleeves of his well-worn hoodie, and he held himself with an almost apologetic air, shrunk into himself as he talked like he was getting ready to run. Or to cower. Not, to alcib, what he'd always envisioned.
"that's, that's impressive man" Alcib continued "How long you been training? What kind of weapon are you running, I heard huntsmen have crazy guns and swords and stuff?"
"wait, you've heard? Surely you've seen one out here?" the boy interjected, surprised. Alcib shook his head in response, and opened his mouth to continue, but as he did his fathers voice, still terse but not as angry came from across the room. "Alcib, ain't you gonna give us any food? My guest here needs to get going if he wants to get a good days travel in"
Alcib pushed up from the table, sighing and extending a hand "well, it was nice meeting you. I'm Alcib by the way."
The boy nodded back, reaching out and shaking his hand in a surprisingly firm grip, belying Alcib's earlier impression of him. "Jaune. I'm Jaune, and its nice to meet you too."