Author's Notes

Happy Thanksgiving!

Happy rats, and don't do crime!

Chapter 23 – A House is not a Homestead

Team Job's newest employer turns out to be a bit of a curiously unpleasant fellow.

Blake had known that the SDC was a big thing, but she hadn't realized just how different having them listed as security consultants for it would be. Before, there had been multiple days to sometimes almost weeks between jobs, but it was only the day after the work at Temecula that another mission came in.

That was a good thing, though – more than a good thing, actually, a necessary thing. Their rates were 15,000 per job, and once Dust and the cost of the airship was factored in, that typically brought it down to roughly 10,000. Subtracting Velvet's cut, Jaune and Blake were only making a grand total of 7,000 lien per job, and their rent was 350 lien per day.

We're solidly in the green, but only as long as we regularly do jobs. At least one every 20 days is necessary, and that's assuming no new expenses pop up.

The thing that was the kicker was that that didn't mean that they could just wait 20 days and get a job. The work they were hired to do could and often did take time, as evidenced by their next assignment.

A farmer who lived a short distance beyond the edge of Vale's capital, about fifteen miles, was under the impression that his land was in danger from some vague and nebulous threat, for he wouldn't specify on the website. Jaune had actually given him a call and asked if he could be more precise in what he believed the threat was, but the guy had said he himself didn't know. All he could tell them was that he wanted his property secured, and he was willing to pay them for it. In the end, they had agreed that one full week for their fee would be a fair trade.

This is literally what we advertise for – it's like the mission was tailored for Team Job. We can't say we're going up against Grimm, as it might be bandits, criminals, rival farmers, or even wild animals. All we've been asked to do is secure a select area of 800 acres from whatever threats are present and ensure the safety of the human who lives there.

The Temecula bandit idiots hadn't wiped them out or anything, so Team Job had agreed to fly out the same day. The only delay was Velvet buying a full three Dust reloads for Anesidora, as the vagueness of her mission made her wish to be prepared in advance.

"I can use the Hard Light on the next mission if it doesn't come up here, but if we're out there in the woods for a full seven days and conceivably fighting Grimm on each of those days, I'd rather be armed than not," she explained.

"Have you considered getting a secondary weapon?" Blake asked. "Something that doesn't vaporize the instant it receives anything more than a lovetap?"

Velvet shook her head with a smile. "No."

They'd left the conversation at that. Regardless of backup weapons, Blake herself had actually seen the wisdom in stocking up and also purchased three full reloads in advance. Between the two of them and the airship flight over, it had cost them over 10 grand to supply up for this one mission.

The farmer had agreed to house and feed them for their time there, but rent for their place back in Vale was still due even if they weren't staying there at the time, meaning that they would just barely be breaking even for this mission. It all depended on how much Dust they used.

I hope this is just some paranoid old man whose seeing shadows in his cornfields. We really ought to consider buying Dust in bulk otherwise.

Given the land size of the farm and how high above average it was for a farm, Blake had been expecting the owner to have been living in something the size of the Schnee Mansion up in Solitas, but that couldn't have been further from the truth.

The actual house itself was sizable (most people who didn't live in the city took full advantage of their open spaces) but not at all extravagant. It looked like it was mostly built from wood, and while nothing was visibly rotting, the paint was beginning to chip in some spots. In others, it was simply unpainted altogether. There were no windows, likely because glass was difficult to get out in these parts, and only a single door at the front. Blake could see a cobbled chimney coming out of the top as well as a well, likely made from the same stone.

The estate also had two other buildings, a barn and a workshop. Those two were more well-kept, even though they looked like they were also hand-built. The barn was three times the size of the house and stood out on the skyline like a towering mountain peak, but the higher up Blake looked, the worse its state of disrepair got. While the bottom seemed to have been well maintained, there were missing planks of wood and numerous holes from the top.

As for the workshop, it was little more than a roof with four posts in place of walls, but there was everything a junior blacksmith might need in order to ensure a self-sustaining lifestyle out in these parts. Tools aplenty were neatly hung up on the walls, and a decently sized kiln was at the center of it. There was also a plow with a yoke just lying around, not hitched to anything, and some other pieces of farming equipment with which Blake wasn't exactly familiar.

This place was built to function, not to be pretty to look at. It's utilitarian in every sense.

As for the farmland itself, Blake could clearly tell where it started and where it ended by observing the treeline. The forest terminated almost immediately where the even rows of crops began, leading Blake to assume that this had all once been a dense mass of trees. The lumber that had been downed to make space for the farm was probably what had built the house and the large barn.

In addition to crops, there was also a vast, fenced-off grazing pasture in which a mixture of sheep and cows roamed. The fences led it back to the barn, but there was no way the hundreds of heads of cattle could ever fit into the barn, even as large as it was. She did see a long trough, though. As they flew over the pasture, Blake also made out one or two horses among the cows and sheep.

And there's the owner…I can see him out there, running out of his house and…and…

The man was younger than she'd been expecting, probably only twenty-five or so. Blake hadn't necessarily been expecting a senior citizen, but the farmer was supposed to be living alone out here, and she had naturally assumed he would be at least a little old and experienced.

Why is he waving his arms like that? Is…Is that a pitchfork?

As he sprinted closer and closer to the airship as it began to touch down, Blake began to realize from his body language that he wasn't running out to greet them but to threaten him. His pitchfork, barely even a weapon though it was, was brandished at the large airship like it might somehow stop it from landing, and the man looked like he was screaming, though it was impossible to hear over the engines winding down.

"Izzat yer guy?" asked Benson. "Looks like a right poor-temper'd feller."

"Well, we don't have to like him to get paid by him," Jaune said. When the airship landed, he was the first to hop down and disembark. "It's just another job. Maybe a not as glamorous one, but we'll make the most of it, eh team?"

That was a nice sentiment, but if their own employer didn't want them to be here…

"…kicking up the dust! I swear to the Gods, it's like a hurricane out here!" Now that the airship was quiet, Blake could actually make out the young man's rabid screaming. "Scaring my steers, scaring my sheep, making all the ruckus in the world – don't you dare start up that airship again, or I'll stick it right through the side!"

"Apologies for the disruption, sir," Jaune said. "Had we been aware that specific accommodations –"

"I don't give a damn what excuses you have to say! Get this metal bird off my property before you go announcing my location to every assassin in the entire state!"

Jaune nodded and turned back to the pilot, who had the windshield between them. Blake and Velvet had gotten off of the ship, and the backdoor was closed, so sound couldn't travel, but Jaune just gave him a thumbs up.

"No! No, don't –"

But the protests of the farmer were too late. The airship rose up into the air (Blake had to admit, it wasn't really all that noisy) until it reached a vertical altitude, then shot off.

"Damn noise! Damn you kids, why didn't you land elsewhere and walk here?!"

"W-We weren't aware you wished that."

"It's obvious!" trumpeted the farmer. "My livestock are probably never going to recover from the heart attacks you gave them." He threw his head back and snorted. "Just don't do it again when you leave. Now follow me inside – we have to talk about your job."

The inside of the house was just as drab and poorly maintained as the outside. It had all the essentials for survival, like a bed, a stove, a water pump, and so on, but nothing was even remotely close to being decorated. The walls were blank wooden strips, and the only floor covering was a bristly brown matt at the front door on which the farmer partially wiped his muddy boots. The rest of the mud just tracked into the house and left thick footprints.

The man didn't have any chairs or a couch for them to sit on in his living room/kitchenette, so Team Job just stood around like a bunch of assholes in random spots in the room. There wasn't even a countertop or something for them to lean against.

"So…you're the bodyguards I hired."

"Correct, sir," Jaune said. "Team Job, at your service."

"Don't need service. Need protection."

"Of course, sir. But, if you could give us more details about –"

The man held up a hand and swallowed. "I know, I know. Toldja on the phone that I wasn't sure, but now I know what I know. Assassins." His eyes darted to the two doorframes in the room – the one though which they'd entered, leading to the outside, and the other empty frame that entered into the farmer's bedroom. "They're after me."

"Please, tell us anything you can."

"I'll start at the beginning. Name's Augustine Alizarin. Go by Austin to my friends, but they all died when the plague came, so you can call me Mr. Alizarin. The land you're standing on came from my grandpappy and grandmammy. They left the farm to me after my mom and pop died from plague, and they passed on last year from old age. I've been struggling to make ends meet for a while now, but I'll be in cold, dry ground long before I hire any hands. This is my land, not yours!"

Blake knew that this cantankerous young man wasn't referring to her in particular but to people who would impose upon or disturb him in general, but it was difficult to feel like there wasn't something personal about the glare he shot each and every one of them, one after the other.

"Now, they're trying to get me to leave. They want me gone, they want me outta here, they WANT ME DEAD!" His eyes flared, and he turned around to violently kick the wooden wall behind him with enough force to make him recoil in pain. "I need you lot. I – urghff – I need you three bodyguard type folks to keep them from getting to me."

"Who?" Blake asked, only to regret speaking up and bringing the attention upon herself.

"ASSASSINS! I JUST TOLDJA!"

"But –"

"What my associate means," Jaune cut in, "is that we will be better suited to protect you if you can tell us the number of assassins, their capabilities, and such information? Do they have aura? Are they armed? We only ask in order to ensure your safety, Mr. Alizarin."

The anger turned to sorrow faster than Blake could have imagined, and the farmer began to weep like a child. "Hundreds of them! Thousands of them! They're closing in on me, from every direction! They come at night, but I don't trust the day either. They'll kill me dead if I don't do something to stop 'em!" He pointed a finger at Team Job, but not accusatorially this time. "Please! I'm begging you, please, help me stop them!"

He was sounding less and less coherent by the minute. Initially, Blake had assumed upon flying overhead that this was something mundane, like an animal dying and a farmer wanting to ensure the safety of the rest of his herd from the unseen threat, be it Grimm, wolves, or vandals. When he'd said assassins, she might have been able to buy that a rival farm might want to kill this bachelor who lacked family in hopes to steal the land, but now he was just spouting nonsense.

I think it might be more suitable for this man to see a therapist than to hire bodyguards.

But Blake would only recommend that at the end of the week, after Team Job Security had secured his land and secured their fee.

The rational part of Blake's brain, which had never failed to serve her well in the past, told her that Mr. Alizarin was just a kook. His mind was almost certainly gone, most likely from the isolation and loss of all of his family and friends to the nasty bout of Green Plague that had spread through Vale and even parts of Vacuo some years back.

However, the rational part of Blake's brain also told her that she could never account for everything. It wasn't likely that there were hordes of assassins gathering around this random farm every night (especially since he'd had no defense for himself or his land up until the arrival of Team Job), but that didn't mean that there wasn't some threat. Perhaps the confused farm owner had mistaken a real threat, something like the burning crimson eyes of the Grimm, for some sort of fairy tail-esque nightmare.

It's also possible there are bandits or thieves out here casing the place some nights prior, and he saw that. Hell, it could even be the White Fang. Mr. Alizarin is a human, and he's well off in terms of his estate. It's not the target I would pick, but who knows what goes on in the minds of some of my former brothers and sisters?

Jaune, who was typically received the best, had been able to coax some more information out of Mr. Alizarin. This one time, Blake didn't actually believe it was because of prejudice or Jaune's above average people skills; the young man seemed paranoid around everyone and everything.

Team Job had been kindly given the loft of the barn, an otherwise empty space, to use as their base of operations. There were no keys to any of the doors, but they had been verbally granted free reign to enter any part of the house, barn, workshop, or outdoor farmland at any time if they believed there was a threat. As long as they didn't harm any of the animals, they were also permitted to move about the pastures.

Since the assassins were expected to come at night, they would be splitting up each day of the seven that they expected to stay into three rotations. Jaune and Velvet would patrol the mornings, Jaune and Blake would patrol the evenings, and Blake and Velvet would patrol the nights. It worked best for all of them this way, as Jaune wasn't too keen on staying awake at nights, whereas Blake was all for it. Darkness was the element of the Faunus, and Blake was a creature who could melt into shadows with ease.

Mr. Alizarin himself was going to be going about his daily business, but anytime he left the house he asked that one of his hired bodyguards be close by to watch over him. From what Blake understood of his extremely busy schedule as the sole caretaker of this enormous farm, that would be most of the day.

According to Jaune, the farm was falling on some hard times. It wasn't really pertinent to the mission, but Mr. Alizarin's obsession with being the sole worker of the fields and caretaker of the animals had led to numerous problems on his end. There was simply too much land for him to harvest on his own, and sometimes he would have entire swaths of crops that fell off the plant and died before he could ever get to it. Additionally, he used to have chickens, but a communicable illness had spread among them, and the entire stock of them had gotten infected and died. Their owner had refused to call in a veterinarian, but that had left him with no other option but to pray for good fortune that never came.

In short, the Alizarin homestead was a failing enterprise run by an obstinate man, one so blatantly bitter against the world that even Velvet herself hadn't tried anything. Blake gave it about ten years before the farm was completely useless, assuming it kept going as it was now.

He could probably sell it and make bank, but people can be stubborn sometimes. Can't say I blame him though, not when he's got non-financial factors like family legacy and personal pride on the line. I mean, I've done stupid things before when it comes to sticking to a dying cause that no one believes in but me.

B̶l̶a̶k̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶l̶l̶y̶ ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶h̶e̶'̶d̶ ̶b̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶a̶l̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶b̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶W̶h̶i̶t̶e̶ ̶F̶a̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶T̶e̶a̶m̶ ̶J̶o̶b̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶.̶

"There's nothing to worry about," she said to herself as she unrolled a sleeping bag in the loft of the barn.

The morning sunlight was pouring in through the cracks and unfixed holes in the roof, forcing her to have to hide in a corner and face directly into a wooden wall. Jaune and Velvet were out there right now, familiarizing themselves with the turf as Blake tried to force her circadian rhythms to adapt to an unwanted change.

"This'll be an easy job." She fluffed her pillow and rested her head down on the side of it. "Our easiest one yet, I'm guessing."

Coming Soon: Cornfields, Cows, and Calamity

Jaune helps out around the farm, engages in single combat with an endangered species, and has a nighttime chat with Velvet before bed.

Author's Notes

We've entered the first day of the rest of our lives; this chapter is part one of a six-part arc, and a lot of future missions are going to be on the longer side (3-4 chapters at least). There will still be some single and double chapter stories, but fewer.

Happy rats, and don't do crime!