Living with jaune was somewhat strange. That was the conclusion that Arslan had come to. It really wasn't that much different. There was just a closed door, and occasionally someone found something rather odd. Glass bottles with makers mark that have never been recorded, or one of many, many weapons tucked into a corner. Sometimes, in the darker moments of the day, it seemed like the world was monochrome. But they rarely actually saw Jaune. He seemed to be gone most of the time, without much of a hint as to where he went. Sometimes he was in class, but more often than not he simply could not be found.
This was often because Jaune had left the campus. He found there to be little interest in the halls of Haven, so he made his way into Mistral itself. Often he was strange sight for eyes accustomed to normal people. But it didn't seem to bother him enough to stop him, so he continued his wanderings.
He found himself in a familiar alleyway, but something was different. It was… cleaner? That was unusual for the dirty off streets of Mistral. He paced down it, turning into a large courtyard.
Only to run face first into a sheet of polyester glass. He blinked, keeping spots out of his eyes. Looking up, the once decrepit courtyard had been replaced with a rather cozy looking diner, being very much out of place next to the grimy and dingy walls of the alley. The top was written in Feral. "Home of Grease", an interesting name. it could have also been "An Egg of Lard" which, considering the smell of fry food that came from it, just might be the correct translation.
Jaune wasn't very good at reading, alright?
He walked into the door, looking around the frankly quant little diner. Honestly, it looked like Wafflehouse, but color shifted to be brown and red instead of the classical white and yellow that adorned the Vale countryside every six dozen miles or so. It was empty in the main area, but it was also very much past lunch.
"Hello?" Jaune called out. His summoning was met by a clattering sound as someone made their way out from the kitchen.
"Taba, Taba, I am coming!" A voice and sounded the way the color ochre looked called out. A rather rotund man strolled out. He was a man of a darker skin tone than Jaune, not that that was a particularly tanned bar. He had black air, now cut down to a respectable length and tied up into a small bun. He must have been somewhere around three decades older than Jaune himself, if not more judging by the beginnings of salt and pepper hair. He was also a faunus, a set of boar like tusks jutting out of his jaw. Jaune recognized him, he was the vendor that he had saved from a quartet of gangsters. The man also recognized jaune as well, judging from his immediate brightening response. "Ahh! Good sir! The gods have finally returned you to me!" He greeted jubilantly, grabbing Jaunes hand and shaking it vigorously. "I cannot thank you enough for the blessings you have given me and my family!"
Jaune blinked, staring at him blankly. "I did?" He ask the man. He only laughed, throwing his head back with the barking utterance.
"I suppose someone as blessed as yourself wouldn't even deign it to be worth remembering, would you?" He said, sitting the ranger down. "You saved me some many Suns ago and left me a fortune for my troubles!" He smiled at Jaune, before turning his head and shouting to someone behind him. "Khazukan, come! There is a man I wish to show you!" He yelled in feral. There was a noise of someone grumbling. Another faunus strolled out, wiping his hands with a rag. This man was significantly darker than the overweight man in front of him, almost as dark and the deep brown tones in the eatery itself.
"Oi, wha's't boss?" He slurred, his tongue flicking against his missing teeth. He was a greasy, grungy man with a thin tail behind him. The boar faunus grinned at him, putting his hands on Jaunes shoulders, frankly oblivious to his uneasy tenseness. "This man eats free at this establishment, Khazukan! He will not be paying a penny for his food here!" The boar man laughed, shaking. Khazukan raised an eyebrow.
"ya'sur boss?" The greasy man asked. The Boss laughed joyously.
"My dear Khazukan! Do you remember how I became the owner of this diner?" He asked with a big smile. The greasy man nodded, still unimpressed.
"Yeah, you'd only tol'me a hundr'd times, boss. A strange man paid you in gold for some cheap fried meat." He groaned.
Jaune was given a shake by the boar tusked faunus. "Well, this is that man! This man gave me a small fortune for a small meal, and I have turned that fortune into a livelihood!" He laughed again. "Now look at me! My children are driven to school every day, my wife grows fat from being so well fed, and I run one of the most popular restaurants on this block!"
Khazukan gave him a tired, flat look. "Boss, you run'th only joint on this block." He said flatly. The rotund man just laughed again.
"And I am very blessed to do so! But-" He looked to jaune, still beaming. "I would not be here if it were not for this man." The blonde just blinked at him.
"you overstate-" he started, but was cut off by the rotund man.
"Your humbleness, sir Hunter, is most wonderful but you do not understand." He said with a grin. "You have given me everything, now order! Order! Please state what your heart desires, my friend!" He pushed a menu into Jaunes hands, waiting excitedly for his order. Jaune glanced at it, taking in all of the details and information.
"Jar Kranachar." Jaune said evenly, handing the menu back. "Please." The man beamed, taking it before scuttling off.
"An excellent decision, sir Hunter. An excellent decision!" he smiled as he made it to the kitchen. Jaune didn't have to wait long, considering that the excited man probably made the dish twice just to have it perfect. When it was served, Jaune had to admit it looked good. A large fillet of fried fish resting on a boat of shredded vegetables, floating in a sea of what smelled like a spicy peanut based sauce. Next to it, also floating in the sauce, was what looked like a crepe rolled into a log, but it was far darker than jaune was used to crepes being. Well, floating was an inept description. Slowly sinking was a better term for it. But good god it looked delicious. Jaune dove in, stabbing it with a paced gusto. It popped it into his mouth, and good god it was delicious. The fish was hot and crunchy and absorbed the peanut sauce wonderfully, just basically melting in his mouth. The bread was also very good, being sour and incredibly absorbent for the plethora of sauce.
"it is wonderful." Jaune said simply, smiling at the them. He smiled back, sitting down across from him.
"You are far too kind, my most honored friend." He smiled, clasping his hands together. They sat there for a couple moments, waiting for Jaune to finish his food. Once he finished, patting at his sauce stained lips and pushing the plate to the side, he leaned forward.
"I assume that you have questions?" The ranger asked the man. He snorted.
"of course. There are so many, how can I even ask?" he asked. "let's start with your name, I guess."
Jaune smiled, mentally chuckling. Isn't that what everyone asks. "Jaune. My name is Jaune."
The man hummed. "And what has led you once more into my eatery?" He asked the blonde ranger. He could only snort at that.
"Do you want the long story, or the short one?"
The boar man smiled. "The long one, if you do not mind." He smiled. Jaune sighed, slumping down.
"Very well. I was born a weak man. My parents had named me Jaune Arc however I have since had to cast the latter aside-"
His listener blinked. "You cast your name aside? But why?!" he started but stopped when Jaune raised his hand.
"We're getting there. Anyway, our story starts with one very foolish me having a unique stroke of luck. You see, I had always wanted to be a huntsman but had always lacked the capacity to do so. But I had a unique opportunity: the chance to go to Beacon Academy, albeit not entirely of my own merit." Jaune said, leading the man in front of him, who he would learn to be named Abkir, into the story. Abkir did not get the entire tale, of course. Very few Jaune would tell about his dreams, but parts managed to slip in. The slaying of the dragon, for one. Pillaging the great halls of the forgotten mountain kingdom, the mad doctor and his terrible sickness, at little places and bits did the dream slip in. Abkir took this to be an ill-fated expedition into the grimmlands, where Jaune had found a rotting kind of madness and dusty ancient civilizations. It was a long lunch, reaching deep past Jaune's last class of the day. But he sat there, talking to a man seemingly overjoyed by his presence. Every once in a while, a faunus or two would walk in and see the head of house sitting across from a Shabyh, dressed in the clothes of battles long ago. They would quickly leave, for fear of displeasing the ghost and being haunted by his wrath.
"And now I'm back for a couple weeks before it all goes to hell again." Jaune said. He had folded and unfolded his napkin nearly a thousand times at this point, but Abkir hadn't mentioned it at all. Instead, he had hummed, pulling on the sagedom earned by being a man in his middling forties.
"it is decided, then." He said, standing up. Jaune looked up at the man. "You will join me and my family for dinner tonight, as my honored guest!"
Jaune blinked at him. "What."
Abkir smiled, patting his rotund belly. "Trust me, my honored friend, if you think that this food is good, just wait until you sit with my family!" He beamed, trundling off to the back of the store. "if you would be so kind as to wait until I close, I can take you myself!"
Jaune paused for a moment, considering his offer. He looked at the clock, calculating that he still had some several hours of time before the store closed and would be packed up. "if you do not mind, I would like to return to my dorm. The armor, while practical, I don't feel would be quite appropriate."
Abkir nodded, seeing the understand the reasoning behind it. "Of course, shall you meet me here?"
Jaune nodded and focused on the concept of home. His shrouded room covered in the dream, the tapestry covered walls. Leaning back into the shadows, he could feel the shades meld together to link the two spaces together into one shadow, a strange casted darkness warping to throw a shadow that could not exist from any object in the diner. So Jaune leaned back into it, stepping out of the shadow into his own room. Team ARBN, Nope, team AACS. Its team AACS now. Jaune corrected himself, peeling himself out of his armor. It seemed easier to take if off him, resting not so heavy in his hands. He shrugged on his nicer set of jeans and a soft feeling Hawaiian shirt. It was initially a dark blue, covered in pink and white blooming round flowers. He adjusted the collar, buttoning it up.
You know, it is traditional to bring a gift into someone's home. B noted, remembering Orleanian tradition. Jaune nodded, recalling his younger years and the cacophonous amount of vases and wreaths his mother was sent.
"I do like the idea of giving them a wreath." Jaune said to himself, heading down to the forges. He had one of the slightest ideas as to how to create a wreath, and hopefully it would turn out well. The schools' forges were surprisingly high technology for not being in Atlas. He pulled out a bag of coins, sorting them into their perspective alloys.
"Alright, how do I do this?" Jaune said, looking at the piles. He thought back to a long time ago, when before he had made it into Beacon Academy. He had spent some time looking around at various employment prospects, denying his dream. He couldn't do it for very long, considering where he was now but he had indeed looked at becoming a weaponsmith with a somewhat serious attitude. He could vaguely remember a couple of options to melt various and randomly chunks of metal into cohesive, usable bars. He found a sheet of mild steel, using a searingly hot finger imbued with solar energy and scalding radiation to cut out chunks and weld them together into a canister.
The he proceeded to shove copious amounts of gold into it. He welded it shut and threw it onto the fire. The process was repeated with some of his silver coins as well. Now, he had two small boxes of slowly reddening metal. While he was waiting, he thought about what the wreath should look like. He felt that bringing such a gaudy but small wreath might be a little insincere, or worse, tacky. So Jaune thought about it for a moment as to what could be done.
Well, wreaths originally were braided roots and flowers to ward away evil spirits during the autumn nights. We could do something similar. B suggested again. Man was pulling his weight in the head today, and Jaune could not be more thankful. Reaching to touch the old, long dead wood that made up the workbench table, he started to slowly fill it with the essence of life once again. A thin branch started to break out, growing towards the source of life that sustained it. Jaune curled it into a braided, overlapping loop. A crown sized braid with many branches shooting out making it into almost a star pattern. In his head, strands of silver and gold would be interwoven, and maybe sone of his many, many shiny baubles for a little bit of color. Once it had grown into his desired shape, he broke it off from the table.
He turned to look at his canisters where they had grown to a bright orange. That seemed good enough. Grabbing the tongs, he pulled them out of the fire. Grabbing the hammer, he broke the canister open, smashing it apart to reveal the glowing precious metal inside. It felt warm in the togs, having a similar glow to how honey might, should it have been harvested by the gods.
It's like a Cadbury egg. A commented as Jaune brought the gold to the wire press. The wire press did exactly that: it pressed metal into wires. Frankly, jaune was thankful that it was dead easy to use. Hot metal goes in, cold wires of the desired size go out. Once he got all the gold out and nicely coiled, he did the same to the silver. Now he had the two kinds of metal he would be working with and could start working on incorporating them into the wreath's wooden frame. He could mold them like wet clay with just a little bit of fire magic imbued into his scarred hands. One by one, inch by inch the strands were pushed and woven betwixt the gaps of growth. He pressed and warped and bent them into shape, laboring in the firelight of a dying forge. He sculped the metal into leaves and vines, wrapping around a great tree. Flowers were fashioned out of stones. Roses from Rubies and Garnets, bluebells and violets from sapphires and opal, streams of agates became wildflowers, spiraling into the sheen of metal and oiled wood. Holding it up to the flickering hue, he gazed upon his work. A thing of beauty, shining in the dimmed light with the lustrous glaze of finery and the heart wrenching touch of a craftsman's rough hand. It held within itself a value most could consider foolhardy to part with, much less give away for something so trivial as a welcome roof and warm dinner. Jaune gazed at it with a slanted eye, inspecting his handywork for flaw and error.
"You know what? It's not bad for a rush job." He said, coming to judgement. Wrapping it in a simple cloth, he tucked it under his arm and took his apron off. He had places to be, and it would be most improper for him to be late.
It was a quick step through a wall that, once convinced it's opposite side shared a room that was at least more than a couple miles away (the gondola ride into Mistral Proper was no quick trip) to get to his destination. He stood outside of the Egg of Lard, patiently waiting for Abkir to finish his last moments of cleaning his restaurant. It seemed that there was a small collection of people were helping him, most of which if he had to guess were indeed homeless if he had to guess. He could have sworn that he saw one of them on the corner of the street when he had made it for lunch.
Abkir noticed Jaune just outside and broke out into a wide grin. He said something to the men cleaning the restaurant before hurrying towards the door, returning their waves with gusto. "Ah, Sir Jaune!" He greeted with a greet smile. Jaune returned a nod. "I am most glad you have decided to join me and my family for dinner tonight."
"Of course." Jaune said, watching as they walked through the underbelly of the city. It was a dark, damp place that wallowed in shattered glass and graffiti splattered brick buildings. Abkir must have noticed that Jaune was looking.
"Ah. I suppose you are unfamiliar with anywhere outside of Mistral Proper?" Abkir asked, the most sutble hint of embarrassed worry in his voice. Jaune nodded.
"I am aware of the issues faced by the outer rings." The ranger started, side stepping a man who was either high or drunk, but most certainly intoxicated. "But I am familiar with similar places."
Abkir's face scrunched up. "it is a sin these places exist." He said after a moment, his footsteps increasing in pace. Jaune just silently followed him as they were led through the dirty alleys and poorly lit roads of Lower Mistral. Jaune wondered how it got this bad. He was only vaguely aware that Mistral put a lot of effort into center and upper mistral, letting the rot of a poorly stewarded town take hold. He had been to the less than savory parts of Vale, but it didn't come close to this level of poverty. There was a loud crashing sound from one of the side alleys, causing Abkir to walk faster. Jaune tilted backwards to look at what it was.
A squabble of dirty men wearing not much more than rags, were fighting over… something. They yelled and cursed, scratching and clawing at each other as they fought for dominance and ownership. Jaune leaned forward, moving to intervene. Abkir took him by his arm, shaking his head.
"Leave them be." He said solemnly. "I have no hope for any form of reason to assuage them." Jaune chewed on his cheek, unwilling to turn away.
Jaune, we're going to be late for dinner. A noted, pulling him out of his indecision.
"Fine. Let's go." He said after a moment. Eventually they made it to an apartment complex, gated off from the rest of the area by a short concrete wall. Abkir smiled as he walked up to the gate, pressing in a digit code.
"ahh, home sweet home." He said as he led the ranger inside the apartment complex. "You know, me and my family used to live further south. It was a bad neighborhood." He said as they climbed the stairs up to the third floor. "The moment I received those coins of yours. Well, I have a cousin over in West Abby-"Where that was, Jaune didn't really know "- and he managed to get a fine deal for that gold. One of the first things I did was I bought and renovated this building. As you can tell-" Abkir continued with a wide grin, looking at the crème colored walls. "it was not expensive." Abkir seemed to always be grinning or smiling, overjoyed at his life. "The restaurant was second."
Jaune gave a hum of acknowledgement. "I know nothing of economics, so was the shop a wise decision?" he asked out of curiosity. Abkir made a so so motion with his hands.
"it would be, if I was a worse human being." He said, looking down at the ground a little in shame. "I am bound by oath of my soul to help, just as you did to me: without question, without hesitation. I feed those that are hungry, I make sure that my doors are open to those in the cold and wet, and those without a bed nor room may sleep within these walls. But I've seen the math, Sir Jaune. I know in my heart of hearts that no one would fault me, not even myself, if I asked for just a little bit more. If I charged for my meals and stopped underselling my rents. My family would not live here, but perhaps in Cellos Cottage or Stanshire, maybe even Upper Mistral itself!" he gave a short chuckle. "My children would go to a good school; my wife could afford to buy from the magazines she so likes to flip through. Perhaps I would even be able to return all the many favors I am owed." There was a pause, letting him breath for a moment. A contemplative silence reigned. "When I was a child, our people had stories of kings and their magics, great tales of history spoken from our families Grior. Of them all, my namesake was my favorite. King Abkir of many Feasts. He was a good king, wise and generous and jubilant. None attacked him, for any conflict was solved over wine and food and honest words. He taught us the value of peace and negotiation, that our world does not have to be so violent as we make it. I have always wished to be like him. Perhaps it is why I became a cook, to take part in some part of those great feasts. But I find that the wealth King Abkir enjoyed does not come from kindness or hard work, nor smiles and honest words." He looked up at the hallway light, which was flickering. He squinted at it, as if daring it to continue. It was an audacious light, apparently, because continue it did. He let out another sigh, before turning to look at Jaune. "So I wonder this, wizened Hunter, is it better to suffer the burdens of a good soul, or ease yourself with the pleasures of a good life?"
Jaune just looked at him, unjudging and unshifting. He pondered it, his brain working through his many long years of life to find a good answer. He thought of the Dream, and how lifeless it was. That he could neither have a good soul or a good life there, and for that he could seemingly have neither here. The light fickered more, it's warm yellow glow dulling into an unpleasant grey. The world seemed to seep away from Jaune, like water on an inked paper, and the weight of the air suddenly felt very, very heavy to Abkir. It unnerved Abkir, and for once he might have understood what it was to be judged by a god. He was rooted in place, unsure of this Hunter, no not this this hunter. This Shabyt? Perhaps he was a Shabunar instead, an angel to judge and watch humanity, one that guided those who died to heaven and hell. Abkir could feel his muscles start to lock, the terrible burden of his sin and guilt crushing his soul at Jaune's awe filing gaze.
Then he moved, having come to a decision, an answer for Abkir Nasahamanuka's question and the weight was gone, and all was right in the little crème colored hallway. "My life is sacrifice for the lives of men." He said, walking up to Abkir. "My soul is not clean, and my life is not good. It is my duty, and my privilege, to ensure that men of all ilks may walk this earth safe and sound, unbothered from the terrible dangers beyond our small walls. It is my honor that you are among those I call my people, my kin, Abkir. But it is also my duty to protect those that are less kind than you. If I could determine the fate of man upon my whim, I would. I would pass judgement, fully and wholly upon this decrepit place and all like it." Jaune was solemn, looking dead ahead down the hallway, his posture gaunt and hung, as if he were a week on the gallows and rack. His voice? Oh, but his voice. It spoke with the sharpness of glass and the solidity of steel. It alone would have made weak men crumble and great men second guessing. "I would raze this world to the ground for a better future. I could mold it as I wish, as a paradise. A place of beauty and prosperity and wonder. A place many only dream of, for all!" His eyes were wide with a wonderous joy as he pictured this world of his in his mind: A place without fear from the grimm or poor governing. A place without the hanging tension of wars or conflicts, where kind men ruled through kind words and good action. And then his face fell as he remembered the previous thought. "A paradise built out of blood. And war. And sin. And unspeakable sin." He spat before taking a moment. The ranger closed his eyes, breathing in through his nose. It was deep breath as he mastered his thoughts, counting slowly down from fifteen. It was a trick that Dr. Clayton had shared with him. Whenever he found himself spiraling down a train of thought, he could just stop. Breath in and take a moment to decide if it was rational.
Abkir looked at the man in front of him with wide eyes and a dry mouth. The man spoke with the full fervor of a man that knew he could make good on any judgement he made and understood the weight of such judgements intimately. As if his word was a foretold end, as though he was some kind of inevitability. That he himself was the harbinger of such an end. Very few things in history or bible had such power, such sureness on their judgement. They were the gods of his bible, and some of the early sorcerer kings, those of long forgotten kingdoms and ages that wielded the godly relics with impunity and wove grandiose magic with authority.
"I could try, at least. I do not think it would end well, however. I doubt I would make for a good king" He sighed, shaking his head. He forced a smile onto his face, but it ended up being ironically somber, unable to reach his eyes, or even the edges of his cheeks. "Alas, I cannot make such a call. Even if I should, my duty dictates to me otherwise. Without greed, without hesitation, without pride I must act. Although, I can name a few that would wish me to be just a little bit more selfish."
One lioness in particular. A commented, nudging B in his side with an elbow. B just rolled his eyes.
"But where would that leave me, Abkir?" He asked, turning to look at his host. Abkir's mouth was hanging open, catching flies. He only somewhat realized that Jaune was done and had asked him a question. He shook his head and moved onwards to the end of the hall.
"We are here." He said, opening the door. There was an explosion of sound as Abkir's family recognized him.
"Papa!" Came a duo of voices as two small children rushed towards the rotund man. Abkir laughed, picking up the two small children.
"Ah, Bello, Mahati! Oh, How I have missed you so!" He bellowed, kissing each of their heads. The boy, Bello, looked over his father's shoulder at the tall blonde.
"Who is this homeless person?" he asked his father, who blanched at the words. Jaune was also taken aback, running his hand over his face.
Do I really look that bad? He thought to himself, rubbing his chin. I suppose I am in need of a shave soon, but I can't be that bad off.
"Bello!" Abkir admonished, putting his down. "That is most unkind! Apologize to Sir Jaune!"
Bellow gave a bow and small sorry, but clearly was unimpressed with the gaunt blonde.
"That does raise a good question, though." Came a smooth, feminine voice. A woman in her later middle ages, much like Abkir himself, came into view. She was dressed in an apron that covered her red sashes and pale cloth. "Who did you bring into our home, my darling husband?"
Abkir light up upon seeing her, putting Mahati down and practically gliding over to her, wrapping her in his arms. "Ah, My Sharazad, my wonder rose, this is Sir Jaune of Haven! A Huntsman of repertoire. And the man responsible for much of our good fortune." The woman nodded, taking off her apron and folding it into her arm before giving him a deep bow.
"If such is the case, then you are most honored here, Sir Jaune." She said. Jaune returned the bow, much to the Nasahamanuka's horror.
""I am honored to be here." He smiled, still standing in the doorway. "ah, before I enter, if I may present you with something?" He asked, holding the canvas covered wreath out to them.
Abkir looked incredibly embarrassed, his guest of honor, a man to be treated with the utmost respect and worship, was here bringing gifts for his family! Oh, his forefathers must be rolling in their graves right now. "Sir Jaune, this is wholly unnesseary-" he started, but was cut off by the ranger's kind smile.
"I understand that it is … unusual that a guest brings gifts to your home."
Only because we just figured it out. B noted. Jaune told him to hold his tongue and not mess him up for this.
"But it is of my custom that hosts, particularly ones such as generous and kind as yourselves, be gifted with a token of the guests' utmost gratitude before entering. You would honor me deeply by accepting it." He said, still holding the cloth covered object in front of him. Abkir took it gingerly from him, not uncovering it as Jaune stepped into the apartment for the first time. "Jalil, would you please escort our guest to the table?" He asked his wife. She smiled at him with soft eyes.
"Of course, my love. Come, Sir Jaune. Let me show you around the home. I do apologize, I wish that Abkir had notified me we were having guests tonight."
Jaune gave a small chuckle, carefully stepping over a sheet of paper that one of the children had doodled on. "I suppose you get guests often?"
Jalil nodded as they made it into the dining room. It was likely the largest room in the multi room apartment, spanning about the total combined space of his dorm. "Both me and Abkir's families are large and live close to us. Often it is family that stops by for one reason or the other."
Jaune hummed at that, graciously accepting the seat that was pulled out for him. There was a gasp from the hallway, and Jalil sighed. "My apologies, but I recognize that gasp. No doubt he has seen my work in the kitchen and desires to show me how to fix it for the hundredth time." She rolled her eyes but was smiling through it. "I love that man, but he is far to focused on his food sometimes." And with that, she left, disappearing into the hallways before. Jaune didn't have to take long before someone else joined him. It was the two children, twins most likely, if Jaune could judge them.
Bello and Mahati. A supplied helpfully.
Jaune gave them a smile. Ah, thank you A. he thought mentally. "Hello you two." He said simply, watching them as they watching him.
Bello squinted at him suspiciously, while Mahati looked at him with wide eyes. "So, you're some kind of rich person?" Bello asked, still skeptical. He remembered his father coming back one day almost two months ago, whooping and hollering and laughing like a loon, clutching a fist full of gold. Apparently, someone had overpaid for one of his meals, back when they lived in a building that should have been condemned ten years ago. Only a rich person could do that, throw money away like it was nothing like that. But the person in front of him looked more like their impoverished tenants than he did a rich man. Jaune just laughed, shaking his head.
"Only in meaningless ways." He said simply. The two of them looked very confused by that statement, trying to parse it out. How could someone have meaningless money?
As Jaune failed to speak with Abkirs children, Abkir and Jalil were looking at the wreath that Jaune had given them.
"What- we cannot accept this." Abkir said to Jalil, who was just flabbergasted. He was holding a piece of art that many would consider worth more than entire neighborhood that they lived in. Some may even call it worth more than their entire sector, and some more might even call it priceless. Jalil was left staring at it, still completely flabbergasted.
"Just exactly what kind of friend do you have, my love?" She asked, looking up at her husband. He shook his head, eyes still locked onto the thing.
Abkir shook his head. "He had found what he described as a meager fortune in the dark lands, but this? This is a meager fortune on its own. I've never seen such beauty crafted from the hands of men."
Jalil looked at him, rather unimpressed. "That is because you will not join me on trips to the art museum." She said flatly. Abkir rolled his eyes lovingly but returned his attention to the thing of beauty in his hands.
"So, what do we do with it?" he asked his wife. She looked at him with raised eyebrows.
"Well, we keep it, of course. It would be rude to return it, wouldn't it?"
Abkir nodded, putting it gently front and center on the hallway sideboard. Little did anyone know, but this wreath would be one of significant importance to the archeological world in the future. You see, Abkir would never end up selling the wreath, and no one of his line would do so either, although it was considered several times. Instead, it would be passed down from generation to generation following the line of the favored child, a tradition of the third and fourth testaments. It was made to ensure that no issues would be brought up concerning property when the parents would eventually die. It was a way of establishing a will in the Faunus culture. Bello would be Abkir's favored line, while Bello would pass it down to his daughter, her her second son, so on and so forth for generation after generation of Abkir's line. It would be lost during a war, one of many that would ravage the lands of Remnant. It should have been taken by the offending army, but it had been buried by the home's collapse. It was lost to time, just kept in a shallow hole in the buried wreckage. It would sit there, preserved and untouched for a very lone time. It would eventually be discovered by one Maduka Mothman and was displayed at the Hollman Museum of History and Art in the Kingdom of Gull. Archeologists would puzzle over the piece for ages, failing to figure out what it was. Many speculated that it was a holy object, others suspected it was just a piece of art. They found that it was indeed passed down from generation to generation through the preserved fingerprints of all things. This was a speculation for the most part, only being able to tell that it had been touched by three to four generations of the same family. However, it's dating showed it to be far, far older than three generations. The wood was dated to be over several hundred years, but the metal seemed to be physically older than they could measure. The AddBad Wreath, named for the province of the Kingdom of Gull it was found in, would be on display until the dissolution of the museum many decades later, where a private collector and historian Dr. Amanda Holl would buy it as the crowning piece of her collection. Articles would be written, Doctorate thesis would be made, Documentaries would be filmed about the Addbad Wreath, some less educated fools would even claim that it was evidence of extraterrestrial life, due to the unusual properties of the gold and silver used. Not that they were fully wrong, considering its source. Of course, Abkir would be unable to picture such a future of importance, only knowing that it would be cherished by his family as a gift from "the closest thing to a god that walked this earth". His words, of course.
Jaune had managed to talk to the girl, Mahati, about baking. Apparently, she liked baking, having been exposed to "A very funny man on Tubel" that baked traditional, Valeian recipes and their many unfortunate iterations. She keeps trying to take over the kitchen to bake. "Mom promised me that I could make desert!" She smiled, missing one of her front teeth. Jaune gave her a smile.
"Oh, did she now?" he asked her in that tone of voice you often use with children. She just smiled, nodding.
"I want to make a vegetable cake!" She said, and her brother cringed. He looked at her aghast, as though she had just said something disgusting. Which to two children less than ten years old, it might have been.
"it's… why does it have vegetables in it?" he asked, still trying to wrap his head around the concept. Mahati just shrugged.
"it has like three cups sugar in it, so it's got to be alright." Mahati assured her brother. He still grumbled about it.
"I can't believe your wasting desert night on vegetables." He crossed his arms with a pout. Jaune smiled as he watched the two siblings bicker. He vaguely remembered that his sisters also did the same, constantly snipping and snapping at each other. He strolled back to memory lane, the voice of his father coming to mind.
"I know they can get on your nerves, but it is your duty as a man to be above that." His father would claim whenever he himself grumbled about his sisters. "besides, they're your sisters. Surely you can show them some love every once in a while?" lt's what he would always say, and Jaune would just slump his shoulders and go do whatever his sisters wanted him to do.
"Well, you're a big dumb dumb!" Mahati said, sticking out her tongue. Jaune chuckeled, shaking his head.
"Alright, Alright, I think that's enough." He said, shaking his head. "So, Bello, what do you like to do?"
Bello's head tilted to the side. "Huh?" He asked, still shifting his attention from his sister.
Jaune leaned forward. "What do you do, child? What do you like to do as a hobby?" he asked Bello, clasping his hands
The small boy just shrugged. "I dunno. Never really thought about it too much. I guess I like to draw?" he said. "What about you?"
Jaune raised an eyebrow at the question. He didn't really have much he would consider a hobby. Most of his time was spend training, learning, or keeping his grades up. He had to think about it for a moment, trying to find a way to spin his work into something relatively sanitized for the children.
"I suppose I like to make things." He said after a long pause. "Working with my hands is a good thing." The three of them sat there for a moment, the children unsure how to talk to adults still, and Jaune being content with the silence.
"Daddy says that you're a hunter!" Bello exclaimed, unable to keep it in much longer. Jaune raised an eyebrow at him, cowing him into a small hum.
"Did he now?" he smiled.
Bello nodded, returning to his skeptical look. "Yeah, but I don't believe it."
A scoffed at that. Right, you don't believe it kid. You got me, in reality, I'm Bugs Bunny! He shook his head, muttering about "kids these days, no respect for their elders". Jaune just raised a singular eyebrow at him.
"Is that so?" He said, putting on a smile. "Why is that? Why do you not believe that I'm a huntsman?"
Bello squinted his eyes at him. "You're wearing flowers." He pointed out. Jaune looked down at his colorful Hawaiian shirt. He looked back the small child, at his own blue shirt. It was one of those ones that had a movie logo on it, some action flick that Jaune hadn't seen. TV's weren't exactly a big thing in Orleans, and CD players and flash drives were still a reletivly new product in their markets. The curse of being an out of city stronghold.
"So? I like flowers. I'll be honest, Bello, my armor is really rather grim." He said, only for A to erupt into laughter.
What did I say? Jaune asked B. B gave his host a flat look
Grim. Grimm. You're a huntsman. He explained to the blonde. Jaune pursed his lips.
Ah.
"Ah, sorry, no pun intended." Jaune said with an apologetic smile. The two were confused for a moment before Bello got it.
"That… that was worse than Daddy's." He said with a sigh. "well, if you're a huntsman, you have a weapon, right? Like a really cool one?" Bello said with an excited kind of hope, wide eyed and smiling. His sister shared the same gaze. Jaune held it for a moment, the strings in his heart crying at the similarity it had with his younger sisters. He sighed, letting his shoulders collapse.
"Fine." The ranger smiled, reaching into the dream. Feeling his hand grasp around a familiar handle. It was one of his smaller weapons, a rather simple if wicked looking combat knife. Really, it was closer to a machete in length and shape, the only major difference was the tapered tip and large, sword breaking segmentation in the very base of the blade.
The children's eyes light up. "Oooohhhh." They awed at the dagger with sparkely eyes.
"Did you kill any grimm with it?!" The two asked him.
"Yes." Jaune lied. He didn't tell them the truth, as they probably shouldn't be told that. "It's not my preferred weapon, but it does good work."
Jali choose that moment to walk back in. "Abkir will be starting dinner soon-…" She started, but trailed off at seeing their guest with such a large knife. Jaune at least had the decency to flush, tucking it away out of sight.
"They asked about my job." He shrugged as the woman sat down. She hummed, looking at the ranger. Jalil made an uncommitted hum, one that was pocked with concern knowing what his job was, and the violence that came with it. She would prefer to keep her children innocent of that particular horror, even if it always ending up coming with a little bit of idolization.
"oh, did they now? What did you tell them?" She asked, leaning forward on her elbows.
Jaune just gave her a noncommittal shrug. "Nothing much. They had only asked what I had killed in the field." He said.
Jalil's eyes rose as she gave her children a side eye. "Did they now?" She said, her sweet tone not matching the hard glint in her eyes. Her children had the decency to shy away. "So, what have you slain sir Hunter?"
That made Jaune huff. "What haven't I?" he said with a small shake of his head. "If you want the most impressive, I suppose that the dragon would be the most impressive, although I would not say it was my most difficult." He spoke. His mind wandered for a moment, to oil. Warm oil dripping down, staining purple cloth black. He shook his head clear of the thought, he continued. "But it is by far the most entertaining one of my adventures."
Bello and Mahati smiled, leaning forward in their seats. "You fought a dragon!" Mahati exclaimed with excitement. "Tell me tell me tell me tell me!"
Jaune gave them a soft smile. "Alright, of course." He said, squaring his shoulders. "This tale starts in far reaches of the lands caked in ash, in the frozen northern arms of a great mountain ridge, lost long ago from the claims of men." Jaune started the story.
"In these mountains there was an ancient kingdom filled with riches dug from the earth. But these riches did not prosperity to these lands. Instead, it brought them strife as the mountain people began to war between themselves. And with that warring came a dragon. A great red beast drawn to their greed and anguish. As far as I can tell, the dragon wiped out the mountain people, shredding through their cavernous home and claiming all that laid inside it." Jaune had pieced this preamble together out of his research done in the mountain from whatever scavenged history he could find. "The dragon would hoard this wealth for untold amount of centuries, letting the mountain lands be lost to history. I do not know how long it took for me to find these frozen lands, but many long years had passed. I had traversed the frigid cold, up to my hips in the snow, seeking shelter from the bitter winds. I had found the great stone gate solely by accident, but was awestruck by what I found. Imagine, if you will, a great stone set of doors, sealed shut by the ice. Each door rose to a staggering height, resting far above my head with their lofty peaks. If my awe was anything, you could not image what it was when I entered this underground realm. I had taken a hammer to the ice covering the doors, and with a great heave pushed them open. Inside was…" Jaune here trailed off, trying to capture the majesty of the dwarven kingdom. "Astounding. Great bridges and pillars spread across the mountain, crossing across chasms and gorges. An entire nation of architecture, straight lines and harsh angles cut into the stone made cube and patterns into the mountain. When you looked up, you could see crystals in the tip of the mountain, creating a starry sky of eternal night there. I explored the mountain, delving deeper and deeper into the ancient acropolis." At this point, Abkir had exited the kitchen, sitting down as Jaune continued his story. "In the depths of the mountain was the Vault. The vault was incredibly large. It spanned as far as I can see, the entirety filled to the brim of ages worth of gold and treasures. A sea of wealth, unimaginable vast amounts of wealth, I don't have words to describe it. There was just an incredible amount of gold and silver in these halls.
But atop it, atop it was the Dragon. A great lizardling beast that sat nearly 50 meters in length." Jaune actually forgot how big the dragon was, he was just making an estimate. And if that estimate was embellished, who cared? "Larger than a house it was, and it hated man. It hated with a passion that was only matched by its lust for gold. It sat upon it's mountain of wealth with a covetous hatred. I was there, hiding behind a pillar as I watched the dragon rest on his hoard. You see, while it might not have been able to see me, it could smell me. The dragon has an excellent sense of smell. It knew I was there, looking for me. I stalked through the vault, trying to escape the hunting beast. Alas, I was not so lucky. The dragon simply had too good of a nose and found my presence much to his ire."
"What did you do?!" Bello asked, sitting on the edge of his seat. Jaune looked at him.
"Oh, I called him mean names and hit him with my sword." Jaune said flatly. "That, admittedly, is an understatement. You see, at first, I was fighting to escape with my life intact. I had no intention of sticking around to actually slay the beast in our encounter. I ducked and dodged, diving out of the way of great gouges of fire breath and claws as long as spears and as sharp as swords. It thrashed and lashed at me, in a vain hope to turn me into ribbons or barbeque. Backstep, backstep, backstep I retreated, trying to make space from the great lizard as best I could. Eventually, he swung at me with his tail. It struck the side of the wall, making the entire world shake. I looked up, and saw a fatal flaw that the dragon had not noticed: Above us in the vaulted room of the treasure trove was a large collection of stalactites hanging from the ceiling."
Bello, unable to contain himself any longer, hopped up onto his knees. "DID YOU DROP A STALACTITE ON HIM?!" He yelled excitedly. Jaune gave him a knowing smile.
"Smart lad." He said. "indeed I did. I threw my hammer into the sky, letting it strike true against he ceiling. And strike true it did, knocking loose a large spear of stone. It fell with a thunderous crash, piercing through the dragons hide and impaling the beast there." That was, of course, not the end of it but the rest of the story involved a heavy amount of magic and Jaune wanted it to be somewhat believable.
Jalil looked impressed, clapping at the end of the tale. "well, Sir Jaune, it seems like you would have made an excellent clan Greol. If you find yourself unneeding of being a huntsman, perhaps something to look into." She smiled at him. Jaune gave her another smile.
"A history keeper?" He asked, pretending to think about it. "perhaps, when my work is done."
There was a thudding sound as Abkir returned from the kitchen. He was carrying a large metal place, filled with rolls of that soured bread and heaps of various dishes.
Jalil gave the ranger a bright, kind smile as she handed him a roll of bread. Quite literally, as this was Kafnir. Kafnir is a bread made out of patience. The dough, livened with the soured yeast of the desert's apples, Subalorm, is left to fester and bubble over the course of a small collection of days, being fed water and grassroot as it ferments. Once it is a soft, goopy, bubbly mixture not to unlike that of a crepe's composition, it is quickly dolled out onto a large hot pan, being baked quickly and without hesitation, leading to a soft, flexible crustless bake that is incredibly porous. It is often served with strong sauces and tender crumbling meats. One great benefit from the intercultural exchange of the modern world was the introduction of Kafnir to verte croquer, a raw diced kind of salad that originated in orleans. Initially both a topping for crepes and as a refreshing intermission between main courses, its raw freshness and delightful crunch made it a sudden must have for most Kafnir laden hands. Many Faunus wondered how they had not come up with something similar, however the lack of tomatoes and pierrsen, or similar vegetables, rendered the fantasy impossible. Jaune liked pierrsens, they were crunchy and fiberious layered fruits that could be mistaken at first glance (and taste) for an onion. However, they lacked the stinging strength that raw onions had, instead having a little bit of a softer, almost nutty flavor to them. That being said, Orlean's close ethnic neighbor, a country that ceased to exist sometime during the first great war, Questas Diciendo, who's name is an unfortunate misunderstanding as when it the land was discovered by the first kingdom of Vale, which would eventually become Orleans (or not, depending on who you thought should have been king in the late middling century). The Valean explores would ask the native people "What is the name of your land?" And the immediet response was "Que estas Diciendo?" Or, in the native tongue: "What are you saying?" The Valeans would take this as it's face value and name the land Questas Diciendo. It was only many decades after, when solid and firm diplomatic relations was established did both parties figure out the error. The king of Questas Deciendo, or Questas for short, found the entire situation hilariously funny and kept it. He even had a tapestry commissioned to cement of joke into history. This tapestry is currently on display at the Kings Historical and Military Museum in Vale, a gallery dedicated to the first war. The tapestry was rescued from destruction during the evacuation of the current royal Questos Family, and was brought with them.
Anyway, as it so happens, the Questos people have a very similar dish called Pico de Gallo, which some food historians claimed came first and was recreated by the Orleanian people. Alas, as the country no longer exists it is the verte croquer that is widespread across the nations of men.
Jaune took the kafnir gratefully unrolling it. He recognized it from both his first meal from Abkir, many many moons ago, and from his lunch. The first time he was interrupted, and the second he was provided with both a fork and knife to work with. But now, he had neither to save him. The entire family looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to take the first bite as the Honored Guest, the Kunj Badar, in their home. Jaune of course noticed this, the nerviousness in his stomach mounting.
"Please, do not wait for me." He said, motioning to the vast plates of food. "I am savoring the moment."
Abkir opened his mouth for a moment, hesitating out of fear that his initial words might insult his honored Sir. Why must he insult me and my host out of his humbleness? He sighed to himself mentally, understanding that Jaune was probably not from either his clan nor testimate, and had different customs. "Sir Jaune, we cannot-" Jaune held up his hand, silencing Abkir with what he was about to say.
His eyes were soft, almost misted. "It is a rarity I find peace in my moments. I do try to make them last, and I know that when I eat, and when we finish, it will mark the beginning of the end here, tonight." He said, taking a dry gulp. "I would like to prolong the moment, if I may. If I could command the moon to stop and the sun not rise, I would sit here forever in an eternal night, right here with good company and good food, and a good, pure world." He said, bowing his head to Abkir. Now it was his turn to flush, his voice losing all of it's terrible, awesome timbre into a flushed whisper.
"And to be quite honest, I am not sure how to eat this." He said, at least having the decency to look as embarrassed as he felt. Abkir stared at him for a moment, before erupting into laughter. Doubling over, he had to lean on the table to not fall out of his chair.
"oh, ohohohoh! Oh, my most honored friend!" Abkir smiled, ripping of a portion of his own Kafnir. "the bread becomes a glove, reaching forward and scooping of off your plate. Once, before we found the usefulness of spoons, our people would reach into the pot directly!" He smiled, demonstrating it to Jaune. He mimicked the movement, picking up a clump of lentils.
"Ahh, now you have it!" Abkir smiled, watching with an eagerness shared by his family as jaune raised it to his lips. He popped it into his mouth, letting the rolling tide of coriander, cumin, peppers and arrowroot, oddly enough, wash over his tongue. He licked his lips, his mouth breaking into an incredible grin.
"Abkir, my friend, it is excellent."
The table broke into a congratulatory series of whoops and hollers, before the family and their guest dug in. Jaune almost felt bad about the enormous amount of food he consumed, suspecting he could have fed a small excursion with what he ate but his guilt was assuaged by Abkir and Jalil's insistence that he was simply just too thin. Once the meal was done, little Mahati dragged Jaune to the kitchen, still laughing and giggling from the energy at the table.
"So, we're making a cake?" Jaune asked the little lady. She smiled, showing off her missing teeth.
"it's a bread! Get the sugar and the flour!" She ordered, bouncing on her heels as she rushed to the refrigerator, taking out a zucchini and a bundle of carrots. Jaune had to be directed by the small girl, but picking up the several pound bags was something he could have done with his thoughts, much less his arms.
He looked down at Mahati, who was pulling over a stool to stand on. "So, what is the first step?" he asked the boar faunus. She just hummed, lining up the carrots.
"you are going to add three cups of sugar, six cups of flour, and four tablespoons of baking powder."
Jaune blinked, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, four teaspoons? four?"
A looked down at the bottle of baking powder in his hands. Then at the bowl, then again to the bottle. Is this bread going to space? Are we sending bread to space today? He asked, shaking his head.
B pinched at the bridge of his nose. I thought we were making bread, not creating new forms of rockets.
Mahati paused, thinking for a moment. "Yeah, I think so…" she trailed off, before nodding. "Yes, four tablespoons."
Jaune opened his mouth again, then closed it. He knew better than to trust a child of course, but who was he to tell the child was wrong? Even if she was. It would be a good learning experience for her. Failure leads to suffering, and suffering builds character.
Maybe if he kept telling himself that it would be true.
He dumped the dry ingredients in. "Alright. We're getting a Nobel prize." He said, looking dead into the bowl. "You're going to be very famous, Mahati. You'll be the first person to send bread into space." He then turned his attention the dough. "Congratulations Mr. Bread, you're going to space today." He said as he whisked it together. Mahati giggled next to him, having turned once recognizable vegetables into a leaking, shredded mass.
"Mix and knead?" Jaune asked, holding the bowl of white powder infront of her. She nodded, pushing the pile in and adding the required amount of eggs. Jaune wasn't sure how many eggs the recipe called for, as he was busy picturing a sweet vegetable loaf floating in space.
Mahati rolled the wet dough into a baking tray and tossed into a warm oven. "And now we wait!" Mahati said cheerily, bouncing again on her feet. "I hate this part."
Jaune laughed, letting himself be led by the Mahati back to the main room. The evening went splendidly, despite the vegetable bread being only alright. Jalil offered coffee with the dessert, the children getting juice boxes, and aforementioned children's bedtime came far sooner than they would have liked. This left the three adults, if you could have called Jaune that, sitting around the dining room table. They spoke well into after the setting of the sun, and by that point Jaune had offered them some of his dream born alcohol. He had a selection of fine tasting solutions to offer them. Abkir was floored by his generosity but accepted none the less. Evidently, Jaune was more intoxicated than he thought, because for some god forsaken reason, he had agreed to watch the two children in the following week.
No one, not him or the voices in his head could tell him why he had made the offer. As he made his way through the deep night of the sick, rotting underbelly of Mistral, the gilded throne of the high life and the low life, a shaggy, thin blonde man in a Hawaiian shirt smelling of alcohol and dragging his feet looked like an easy mark. This what Hissan Ibomata thought as he approached the blonde from behind.
"Eh, hey, kid, your wallet." He said, bumping into the ranger. He expected to send him tumbling, but instead it was like he walked into a wall. The blonde man turned to look at him, with eyes that seemed to glow blue in the dark night. Jaune gave Hissan a single look over, judging him mentally. His stared into his eyes, pushing his thoughts into the strangers head, looking and sieving through his thoughts. A glow started to slowly overtake his eyes as the magic flowed between them.
"Disappointing." He said, looking the would-be mugger directly in the eye. Hissan seemed to just get locked in space, stuck looking into the glowing eyes. They seemed to get brighter, overtaking his vision as his mind was flooded with the bright blue light that could never be found on earth. Hissan would never this light again, instead being found washed up nearly a dozen miles away in the middle of a grapefield, having wandered in a dazed stupor for the entirety of the night.
Jaune just wondered why this man had just bumped into them, then went slack jawed when he turned around.
Man, there are some weird people in Mistral. B thought as Jaune waved his hand infront of the dazed man. When there was no reaction, he decided to pick him up and put him down on the first bench he saw.
It wasn't everyday that someone saw the light of another world in the eyes of a dreamer after all.
Jaune returned to the dorm very late at night, just a little bit past one in the morning by the time he opened the door to his dorm.
"Ahh, home sweet home." He sighed, walking silently through the common space to his room. Opening his door, he sat down by his desk, leaning back to look at the moon.
Yeah. Home.
Ahh, I was hoping to get everything in one chapter (The next scene being Jaune dragging Arslan on his chaperoning of the children to a museaum) but I figured that this was a good place to end it.
Ahh, a look into the family life of the mistral family. I actually had this scene birthed the moment Jaune met Abkir way way way long ago to show a positive impact that Jaune has outside of violence, and that Jaune's positive impacts don't stem from his capacity for violence as he believes it does. I also just love writing Abkir's sterotype/ character archtype of the joyus, rotund man. Abkir is based very much around the father of an old friend of mine who was just overjoyed to be around people, with a sprinking of Sallah from Indiana jones. Picture him and you have a very good idea of what Abkir looks like. he might not show up again later down the line, he might I really haven't decided yet. So, one more scene before jaune starts his trek back to Beacon for the Vytal festival.
For anyone wondering, kafnir if based heavily off of the Ethiopian bread Injera. Actually, Abkir's entire culture's food is heavily based off of ethiopian dishes with some inspiration from Malaysian cuisine. that that there will be that much of an exploration, but that should give you a better idea. If you've never had Ethiopian food, you are missing out. Go have some. It's a little pricy in america I've found, but good god is it worth it. if you like Indian food, you will like it quite a bit.
A nice fluffy chapter for Jaune. One where he can just be human for once.