Here we go.

Chapter 29

The mountain to the east wasn't a large one by any means. It stood apart from the plains around it, majestic by virtue of isolation, but its peak didn't pierce the clouds nor was it coated with a layer of snow. It was not a steep mountain with a sharp peak, but oddly dumpy and rounded, as if a gentle hillock had decided to keep on growing.

Jaune carried Weiss to the foot of it at a fast run, then they took a break at the bottom for him to regain his breath and aura before beginning the slow climb. It made sense to move quickly from one population centre to another, to minimise the amount of time spent alone on open ground where their pursuer could more easily sense their aura.

"There's a path up the mountain." Weiss returned from her brief walk, both to scout and to stretch her legs. The proud huntress hated being carried by him. "It winds around the whole mountain rather than make a straight line. We'd honestly be better off climbing than using it."

"They might see that as disrespect. We walk the path."

"You realise there's a war on? There isn't time."

"There's always time, Weiss. That is a constant no kingdom can destroy. Time will remain long after the last human draws his breath on Remnant."

The huntress rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."

"The walk will do us good."

"But—"

"And it'll give me time to teach you how to use aura like we do."

That stopped her. Weiss scowled, well aware of the manipulation but also wanting so badly to be able to do what he and the ones from Menagerie could do. There hadn't been any time to practice or teach her, what with Raven and then Menagerie's forces.

"Fine. But you'd better teach me."

"It takes time."

"We'll have plenty of it. That path winds for hours."

Jaune sighed and stood up, shouldering his pack once more. "Then we'd best begin."

/-/

Four hours.

That was how long the two of them walked, while Jaune taught Weiss how to regulate her aura around her meridians. Though teaching her might be the wrong way to put it, since most of the time was spent debating with her and trying to undo the lessons of teachers and experts from her past.

Weiss clung to them too tightly. No matter what he said, she had some expert thesis or research to call on to call his words into doubt – except that her confidence would always take a hit when he would casually hold up a hand and prove those "experts" wrong. The strangest part was how personally she took that, as if she were the experts in question and he was insulting her.

"I'm not saying you are wrong, Weiss. Your teachers are the ones who got it wrong."

"My teachers were some of the best in Atlas. They were the most expensive—"

"And does money always equate to quality? Master Ren was a poor man by the standards of your father, and yet he taught me all this within only a few shorty years.

"Fine. Tell me again how these meridians work…"

"I can, but you're going to have to stop treating this like mysticism. If you constantly tell yourself it won't work, then it'll never work."

"Belief is the key, is it?"

"Not necessarily. But a lack of belief will sabotage you. And that holds true in all walks of life."

"Then what's to say this isn't some placebo?"

Jaune raised his hand and let his aura circulate. "The fact that it works."

"I can flare my aura as well."

"But can you run at a sprint for hours without tiring? Can you do any of the things I can?"

"…" Weiss looked away. "No."

"Then stop trying to poke holes in what I'm doing my best to teach you."

Master Ren would have had something to say about his own teaching methods, and maybe he could have stood to learn a little patience as well. The only problem was that it took him years to get this far and he really didn't want to have to drag Weiss along for all that time.

I have to find Cinder and those with her. All this – Weiss, the war, the Black Ribbon Sect – it's all a distraction I'd rather be free of.

"Well…?" Weiss had her hands on her hips. "Are you going to continue or not?"

Deep breaths.

He had to take deep breaths.

/-/

Two hours later they got their first sight of the sect hidden in the mountains. Despite the name "Lotus Temple Sect" it wasn't so grandiose. There were four buildings constructed of stone bases and wooden upper halves, connected to one another and tucked in on a plateau with their backs to the mountain. A few hardy trees clung to the rocky face of the mountain, and a small garden grew vegetables for the inhabitants.

The wall around it was low, only two feet tall, and more marker of boundary than obstacle to entry. It was in disrepair. The gate stood tall and pristine, however. Two wooden pillars with an archway over it that consisted of curved wood aligned in a pattern to form a flower. It was painted in shades of green, blue, red and white, with green lines circling around the pillars all the way down to the floor.

Beyond, the four wooden buildings stood, each only the ground floor. Two were long rectangles and two were small squares. Light could be seen within the longer ones, likely the quarters for those who lived here, while smoke pooled from a single square one. A cooking area, forge, or something like that.

"I can't believe people live up here," Weiss said. "It's not cold or too hard to breathe, but it'd take half a day to get to the nearby town. What do they eat?"

Jaune nodded to the vegetable patches. "That."

"Yes. Obviously. But I mean what do they eat with them? Meat, sauces, spices, broth, drink."

They would hunt, of course, but that wasn't what Weiss meant. She was like he had been back before Ansel fell, raised on a diet of rich variety and believing that was the standard everywhere. Convenience had made them spoilt and lazy, believing that the acquisition of food was as simple as walking to a local shop and buying everything you might need.

But he didn't say that to her. Jaune set his bag down, crossed his legs and sat.

"Aren't we going in?"

"No. The old man said to wait at the gate. We shall."

"And if they don't see us!?"

"Then we will camp out here."

"That's ridic—"

"You need to practice your aura exercises anyway, Weiss." Jaune unclasped the top of his bag and drew out a scroll. "And I need to do my own training."

As the huntress grumbled and settled down to try and meditate as he'd taught her, Jaune looked over the scroll he'd drawn. A green ribbon marked it a Foundation level technique, and while he was tempted to reach higher, he didn't let himself. For one, higher level techniques only meant greater danger, not necessarily greater strength.

The Demonic Gu Soul Technique he'd learned to defeat Tyrian's poison was a horrifically risky technique, but not all that useful compared to the Iron Limb Technique that let him harden his forearms like metal. Maybe the former would have been better for him if he'd learned prior ways to use his now-poisonous aura as a weapon first, but that only reinforced the importance of working from the ground up. The later techniques might well be uselessly specific.

Untying the ribbon, Jaune rolled the scroll out over his lap and began to read.

"What is that?"

"It's not meditation and aura exercises."

Weiss huffed and closed her eyes. He could sense the irritation radiating off her, and that wasn't down to any special technique. That was just the sheer weight of her pout. Jaune went back to his scroll with a shake of his head.

The first thing that struck Jaune about the scroll was that the author was different. He knew not by name but by just about everything else. First of all, the scroll was patterned underneath the handwriting. There were patterns of string that wove from one side to the other, sometimes interconnecting and weaving to form knots in the upper corners of the parchment. It was solely decoration, but it marked the scroll as being very different in origin.

Different author, but also different materials. Perhaps even a different culture when it came to how they made their scrolls prior to them being written on. The handwriting was subtly changed as well, cursive and elegant in a way that made him think a very patient woman had written it. The ink was green, an odd choice, but it stood out well on the faded vellum.

The Spirit Inhabiting Cloth Technique. The name was flowery, but also quite blunt. It made it clear that this was a technique for use on cloth or clothing, and the opening images showed that, revealing a woman standing calmly with arms at her side, as her clothing rose up behind her with a mind of its own.

Interesting, he thought, eyes going wide. This is some technique to infuse aura into cloth and animate it. How? I feel I could push the aura out, but how would I control what the cloth does? Should I supply and retract aura like a muscle tensing and releasing?

The obvious answer was that he should read on and find out, but there was a certain excitement in discovery that had him pause in wonder. It only felt right to admire the work of past masters like that. To stand in awe of their discovery and not just cannibalise it for his own. Jaune looked down on the woman drawn in the scroll and wondered whether it was a self-portrait of the author. They could have drawn a stick figure but had gone for an artistic display.

Warm air ghosted across his neck. "What does it say?"

Jaune flinched. He hadn't heard Weiss get up or move, evidence of how absorbed he'd been. Instinctively, he began to close the scroll but soon gave up. Weiss had seen it, and it wasn't like she'd be capable of this if she refused to even learn the basics.

"It's a technique scroll. Think of it as an instruction manual."

"What does it do?"

"I've yet to read and find out, but whatever it does is beyond you at this point. You won't be able to learn a thing if you don't focus on your own aura."

"Then you'll teach me something like this if I do?"

"Yes. I promise." He'd pick a safe one. Something that couldn't be misused. It was doubtful Weiss would master her aura in any short time as it was. "But I won't teach you until I'm sure you won't kill yourself with your aura. Now go and focus."

Grumbling, Weiss went and sat down again. At least this time she seemed more determined to get it, excited at the idea of learning special techniques. He watched her for a few seconds to make sure she didn't get bored and come over again before going back to reading. The temple denizens had still not come out to greet them, and Jaune didn't know enough about sect culture to say if going in to find them wouldn't be a grave insult.

Reading on, the scroll discussed how aura could be channelled through cloth – but it came with a surprising twist. Instead of using traditional cloth, the cloth used by a practitioner should use elements from their own body. Hair woven together for instance. It mentioned how constant and repetitive use of aura could keep that hair fresh and alive, ensuring it lasted just as long as synthetic fibres. And, with aura coursing through it, it could be stronger.

Genius! I thought it would be hard to channel aura through cotton or wool, but if your clothing is made of hair then it's already a part of you in a sense. Though now it makes me wonder if I should grow my hair long and learn how to use that as a weapon as well.

Something to try later. The scroll went on to talk of specific weaving techniques and how to make a scrap of cloth from hair, slowly at first, and how to use aura to stimulate that severed hair to continue growing. The scroll suggested a simple cloth instrument first, mentioning how a dress or pair of leggings would contain too many contours and seams and make controlling aura difficult.

The scroll suggested a sash about the waist or, even simpler, a ribbon.

/-/

They had been outside the sect for three hours when someone finally approached. Jaune had taken it well, happy to study, but Weiss' patience had waned an hour back and she'd taken to pacing after complaining of how stiff her legs were.

The man who approached was thin and lithe, perhaps a few inches shorter than Jaune. He wore a green outfit that was a mirror image of Jaune's own, except for a slightly thicker cloak around his shoulders in a darker shade of grey, to keep out the chill of a mountain's night. He carried with him two wooden bowls with steam coming from them. When he came closer, Jaune caught pink eyes and black hair, and a youthful face showing remarkable poise and calm.

"For you," the man said, offering the two bowls.

Jaune reached out. "Thank you."

"Can we go in now or what?" Weiss asked. "It's cold out here."

"Weiss!" Jaune bowed forward from where he was sat. "I apologise for her; she means no offence. Weiss isn't used to this way of life."

"It is forgiven." The man, never once losing his calm expression, handed the second bowl to an irritated Weiss. "A decision has not yet been made on admitting you into the sect proper. Please allow us more time."

"Of course. We can camp out here."

Weiss let out a frustrated whine.

"I will see to bringing you blankets if you have to. And wood for a fire."

"Thank you."

"May I ask your names and sect? I am Lie Ren, of the Storm Lotus Sect."

Not the Lotus Temple? He'd assumed given the last names, but it was entirely possible they were from different sects. Even different families. Ren couldn't be so rare a surname in Mistral nowadays.

"This is Weiss Schnee of no sect." Jaune introduced her. "She is from Atlas, stranded behind Menagerie lines and in need of help." Ren nodded. "And I am Jaune Arc, student of the Lotus Temple Sect."

There was a reaction. It was small, guarded, but it was there. A stiffening of the shoulders. A glance down at the scroll in his lap. A quick blink, with his eyes remaining shut a second longer than they should have. Ren's nostrils flared as he let out a long breath.

"I see. I shall pass on your names to the grandmaster of the sect and ask that you be allowed in to rest." He bowed, and Jaune returned it while staying seated. "Please enjoy your meal in that time."

"Thank you again for sharing it."

Lie Ren walked slowly away, leaving Jaune and Weiss at the gate. The food was steamed vegetables in a broth of their own juices, but there were also three small slices of bread beside it. A hard and crusty cut about half the height of supermarket bread. It was freshly baked, without the preservatives and chemicals that someone like Weiss had grown used to.

"Is this even food?" she mumbled. "I'd rather have our rations."

"Don't insult them by refusing it." Jaune dipped the wooden spoon provided into the broth and sipped. To him, it was smooth and gently flavoured.

"It's tasteless…"

To Weiss, it tasted of nothing.

"That's the spices and flavouring you've grown up on. I had the same thing when I was first saved by my master. Food nowadays is too filled with sugar and sweetener. The goal is to make the taste as punchy as possible. It's probably why children have so much trouble eating their vegetables nowadays. All the other food is too high in sugar for vegetables to compare."

"It's not like I've never eaten a salad in my life."

"Without dressing? No salt, no olive oil, just salad on its own?"

Weiss grumbled and forced herself to eat.

/-/

It only took an hour this time for someone to come back for them. Jaune had collected and stacked the wood bowls and spoons and wrapped up his scroll. He'd need a chance to cut his hair and weave it into a ribbon to learn the technique properly, but he'd read over the theory of it several times so that he'd knew what he was doing.

Practice would have to wait.

It wasn't just Ren who came back but a girl with orange hair. She wore the same green robes but had them on a little looser, not just because of her chest but in ways that would help her move about. She had a large two-handed hammer behind in one arm, the haft of it resting across the back of her neck and shoulders. Ren had returned armed as well, two small knives on his sash.

That didn't bode well.

Standing, Jaune offered the bowls. "Thank you for your hospitality. It was delicious."

Weiss was too polite to disagree.

"I am glad." Ren took and held them. "The grandmaster, my mother, An Ren, has agreed to meet with you both. But before that I would ask how you knew of our sect. Did your master tell you about us?"

"No. My master never told me anything of the world beyond our temple. But I was only with him for a few short years. We learned of this place by an old man in the neighbouring town. One known as Ming. And a little girl who said you protected people from the Grimm."

The two of them relaxed just a little bit. "Old Ming is known to us. Though it's strange he'd tell you to come here."

"He told us that after learning about my master." Jaune couldn't resist. "Are you related to Shu Ren?"

Ren closed his eyes. "I believe he is my great grandfather. I've never met him."

"I'm sorry to bring bad news, then. Master Ren died this year."

Ren sighed. "I am sorry for your loss."

It felt strange to have Ren say that to him rather than the other way around. He'd never met Shu, so perhaps it made sense. The man was a stranger to Ren. To think he was a great grandfather, though. Jaune had always known Master Ren was ancient but he never spoke of having children, let alone grandchildren and more.

"Thank you," Jaune said, awkwardly.

"Nora is here to take Miss Schnee to our hot spring to be cleaned. She will be given a bedroom and somewhere to settle her belongings."

"Is there a reason you're separating us?" Weiss asked.

"Only that the conversation between your companion and my mother will make no sense to you. It is sect business and you know nothing of it. You're welcome to attend if you wish." He shrugged. "But much of it will go over your head. Unless you wish to listen to my mother ask on the fate of her grandfather."

"I'll take the spring…"

He nodded. "A wise choice. Nora?"

"Come along, princess." The orange-haired girl stooped and picked up Weiss' bags with one hand. "There are no rules against mixed bathing here, so best be in and out before the boys are finished with their meeting. Unless you want to show off a little?"

"O—Of course not!" Weiss blushed bright red. "Arc, I will have your head if you peek on me!"

Jaune rolled his eyes as Weiss was led off.

"You keep interesting company," Ren said.

"I was employed as a mailman to take her a letter on my travels, but then she was attacked and almost murdered by a member of the Blackened Ribbon Sect. Then by bandits on our way back to Mistral, forcing us this side of the war. I'd have been rid of her a while back if I were able."

"Curious. The Blackened Ribbon, you say? I suppose they are behind the attack on Atlas so it makes sense. They came here not so long ago to pay respects, as per tradition. The grandmaster of that sect is still on Menagerie from what I understand. She does not approve of the war but also cannot decide for her disciples."

Ren led him to the rightmost of the longer buildings, the one furthest away from the mountain itself. They walked up a few wooden steps onto the platform building, then passed through an open archway under a pavilion. The inner building was protected from the wind by screen doors and thin wooden beams. Ren slid open a door and stepped through. Jaune followed, into a training hall of some kind.

At the far end of it sat a large stone. Or perhaps the building had been constructed around it. On that stone sat an older woman with reddish-brown hair. Cross-legged, she sat with an ink well to her left and a scroll to her right, but for now she had one fist on her right knee and the other hand cupping her chin, stroking it as she regarded them.

Ren bowed at the doorway. Jaune echoed it. Then, they entered, until they were in front of the woman on the stone. Ren fell to one knee, pressing one fist to the floor and lowering his head. "Grandmaster," he said, respectfully.

Jaune knelt a moment later and mimicked the post as best he could. "Grandmaster," he echoed, and then, "Thank you for allowing us into your sect. And for providing food for us outside your gate."

"Curious." The woman's voice was powerful. Deep. "You bow when you are no student of mine. You are either deeply afraid of me, or you are dearly uneducated in our ways." There was a moment's pause. "I see it is the latter. Stand. A student of one sect should never bow to another, except when offering respect before a spar or duel."

Blushing, Jaune stood. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Ignorance is an excuse only as far as it takes you to learn. Tell me, boy. Why are you ignorant of our ways when you were raised by my great-grandfather?"

"My tuition was cut short. Master Ren found me when Grimm attacked my village and killed my family. He saved my life and took me in."

The woman nodded her head. "You have my condolences."

"Thank you. Master Ren only took me in as a way to keep me distracted from my grief. He taught me to defend myself and be self-sufficient so that I would be safe even after he died, but my lessons were cut short when a huntress from Mistral came demanding Master Ren's secrets for her own strength."

"Oh? And what did Shu Ren do to her?"

"He gave her a scroll."

The woman's eyes narrowed and she leaned in. "Interesting. How very unlike him. Do you know why?"

"He said that she wouldn't be able to learn it and would hopefully give up. Unfortunately, she came back with more of her kind and attacked the temple. Master Ren was killed buying me time to escape, and I was badly poisoned. I managed to survive but, when I returned, the temple had been ransacked and Master Ren was dead. I buried him and came to Mistral in pursuit of his murderers."

"Violence begets violence. Vengeance will not solve this issue, child."

"Not vengeance, grandmaster." Jaune knew he'd done wrong interrupting her, but he had to say it. "I seek them to retrieve the scrolls they stole. Master Ren told me they could do great harm in the wrong hands."

Grandmaster An Ren snorted once, then again. It came out sudden and sharp, almost as if laughter was bubbling just below the surface. Eventually, that became too much and she threw her head back, barking out a loud and bitter laugh.

"Did he now? Shu Ren said that? How interesting. How remarkable. How hypocritical." The last came out a sneer. "Your ignorance may well be what saves your life today, child. Answer me – and know I will be able to tell if you lie. What did Shu Ren tell you of his past?"

Jaune swallowed. "Nothing."

"But you suspect things, surely."

"I have had poor reactions from the Blackened Ribbon Sect when I revealed his name. They attacked me on sight. And the old man, Ming, seemed surprised at how Shu Ren had changed when I told him of his death. He knew a different man to the one I call my master."

"Time changes all men. I have heard that said. Even a monster such as he, it seems." An Ren stared down at him as Jaune bristled. "You knew him as Master Ren. As Shu Ren. Among the sects, he had other names. Soul Thief. The Taker. And, in Menagerie, for his actions at the Blackened Ribbon Sect, he earned the nickname Shu the Slaughtering Dragon."

Jaune gasped.

"For the kidnapping and murder of seventy-five members of the Blackened Ribbon Sect, until its grandmaster surrendered their technique scrolls to buy the lives of the students that remained." An Ren pointed. "That scroll my son saw you reading outside was the first that they would share with their students. It contains the heart of their sect. A heart your master plucked out its still beating chest, along with the secrets and lore of a hundred other sects, to greedily hoard for himself."

"No… No. Master Ren would never!"

"And now you have the gall to tell me those secrets, and more, have fallen into the hands of those who would abuse them?"

An scoffed.

"That ship sailed fifty years ago."

Next Chapter: 25th March

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