Chapter 14

It was easy to see how Mistral could have been a beautiful land. Rolling hills, bright forests, tall mountains with plateaus cut into them that housed small villages. The architecture was the same as what was used in the Lotus Temple, proving Jaune's belief that Master Ren had come from Mistral himself. It all felt so very familiar and comforting, which should have made it that much more welcoming.

But for the war.

He was firmly in territory captured by Menagerie, and as polite as Adam had been to him, it was clear by travelling through their land that not every faunus was the same. Adam had trained under the sect in Menagerie to give up his anger, but signs of devastation and wanton slaughter showed that not everyone had. Some villages stood, with their citizens moving about fearfully but unchallenged, guarded by Menagerie soldiers who were mostly avoided by the people living there.

Others had been burned down, with dead bodies left to rot and be picked at by carrion. There were those in between, with mass graves, signs of abandonment and even a gallows with hanging, rotting bodies to taunt him, but he had yet to find a place where anyone looked happy.

It was a stark reminder that Menagerie was still an invading force, and that for all Adam's actions and words and the fact he let refugees leave to burden Vale, not every other commander did. The lines stretched all the way from the west to the east coast, and Adam was but one leader among many.

Jaune stuck to the roads but stepped off it whenever he saw people in the distance, and that let him avoid having to deal with awkward meetings. Adam's token might help to save his life, but there was always the question of whether that would come before or after he'd been attacked. Better not to risk it.

As he knelt in a woodland or among some rocks and watched faunus travel by on vehicles or marching in column, he took the time to inspect and get a feel for them. Most were quite obviously not trained in the Black Ribbon Sect like Adam and Blake had been, that much was obvious from how they carried themselves compared to those that were. More so, the Black Ribbon Sect always carried with it a ribbon of their namesake, sometimes wrapped around the arm or leg, sometimes diagonally across the chest like a sash.

Jaune noticed that they often moved at the front of any formations and wondered which had come first – their positions or their training. It made sense for those in command to be strong enough to survive, but he was curious as to how much involvement the Black Ribbon Sect had in this invasion. Were they so influential that they called the shots and decided the campaigns? Or was it just that the army had opted to take from the ranks of these so-called Outer Disciples? He didn't dare ask and reveal himself, and the faunus rarely paid him any attention. They were in captured territory and more worried about running into squads and battalions, so even though some had probably seen a lone traveller break off the road and hide, they didn't bother to hunt him down.

They were probably used to people wanting to avoid them.

As he travelled eastward, Jaune also continued his training, performing kata and meditative exercises in the forest and dedicating at least three hours of each day to studying his meridians and the Iron Limb scroll. Though it was tempting with his lack of progress on it to open another scroll and see if that might be easier, he also didn't want to fall into bad habits. Diluting the training would not make it any better.

Sitting cross-legged on a patch of grass, Jaune considered his arms as he held them in his lap. He had managed to get the flow of aura down to the point where they tingled with pins and needles but no longer ruptured and bled. As to their "iron-like quality", he could not fully say. His arms felt heavier and more durable, but that could have just been the vast quantities of aura he was circulating through his skin. The barrier aura made could also be described as hard as metal, given it was a forcefield of sorts, but he had to assume a technique scroll would not mistake something so simple as being a limb turning to metal.

There had to be more to it.

More practice was required, and he spent the next day travelling while alternating between infusing aura to his right forearm and then his left, circulating it fast and slow, steady and pulsing, all to train his aura control. Huntsmen didn't bother with such, simply relying on aura like a flicked switch – on or off.

But huntsmen weren't the only danger in Mistral now that he knew about the Black Ribbon Sect. Menagerie's army lacked in huntsmen but apparently had hundreds of practitioners just like him. That was concerning. How much like him they were, he wasn't sure. The girl on the south of Vale had been as good if not better than him, but Adam had as good as said she was a rarer breed, daughter to the head of the Black Ribbon Sect and so likely trained from a very young age.

How would an Outer Disciple, far more common here, compare with himself? Jaune had been taught for several years. How long were they taught? How intense was it? For Jaune, there had been no breaks and no distractions, but the way Adam described the Black Ribbon Sect made it sound more like a club or martial art, where people might live their normal lives and come for two hours of training every other day. Or more, or less. He wasn't sure. Either way, he had no idea how they trained or in what.

Perhaps I should have asked Adam to spar so I could gauge him, but then I didn't want to risk spending any more time there than necessary. I'm not a faunus so they shouldn't want to recruit me, but if I gave off some sign of being in the Lotus Sect then the animosity from the girl in Vale might have returned.

Yet more reason to avoid the faunus, even if he had no idea what the Lotus Sect had done. Master Ren never said, and never talked about life back in Mistral. Maybe the two sects had competed in the past over Mistral itself, or maybe the Lotus Sect had thwarted a prior invasion plan. There was no way to know.

But he did wonder if the Lotus Sect might exist somewhere in Mistral still.

Heck, maybe it had all been a case of mistaken identity. What if the Black Ribbon Sect hated the Lotus Sect here on Mistral, or what remained of it, and Master Ren had been completely innocent.

For all he knew, the Lotus Sect here might have become criminals.

Or the Black Ribbon Sect were.

Ultimately, it didn't matter. While he would have loved to sit with someone or a good book and piece together the history of the sect he'd been rescued by and joined, it wasn't going to help him get to Mistral or find Cinder and Tyrian. About the only thing it might do was give him somewhere he could go for extra training, assuming they wouldn't kill him on sight, and while that was tempting, he could also train on his own.

Not to mention they might want to take his scrolls off him and add them to their own techniques, and that felt little better than giving them to Cinder. At least they were too impatient and too stuck-in-their-ways to properly learn them. The Black Ribbon sect could and would master them, and then they might be used in their further conquest against Atlas and Vale.

Master Ren would not want that.

Neither did Jaune.

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The last thing Jaune expected to find in this side of Mistral was someone from Atlas.

He'd been drawn by the sounds of gunfire and come across a skirmish between two forces that was nearing its conclusion. By the time he reached a cliff overlooking it, the fight was just ending, with Atlas coming out on top – if "on top" could be counted as a squad decimated, as many faunus dead, and one survivor limping away clutching their bleeding side.

If only I'd arrived sooner, Jaune thought, but then wasn't sure how to continue.

He would have done what? Ended the fight was the obvious conclusion, but both sides would expect him to back them. Which would he choose? Neither, but then they might just start the battle once more around him. These two factions were at war, and while he could push two people apart and stop them fighting, this looked to have been six on six. He couldn't have held twelve people apart.

"I wonder what Atlas thinks it's doing penetrating this deep," mused Jaune. "They don't seem to have any vehicles or supplies. Are they scouts?" It didn't seem likely scouts would be so far away from the front lines, but then he didn't know any better. "Trying to guess their movements when I have no idea how an army works isn't very smart. The real question is what my next move should be."

This war was none of his business but there was someone wounded down there and it didn't feel right to just move on. The Grimm would find them soon if the faunus did not come searching for their missing comrades. Even assuming they survived both, it'd be a fresh question of how the hell they'd make it back to their side of Mistral without being captured or killed.

But, if he were to help them, then wouldn't it be as good as picking a side in the war...?

"But to walk away and do nothing..."

Jaune bit his lip, recalling Shu Ren's lessons about creating a code for himself. Master Ren had been strict in saying he should not let others dictate what he should or should not do with his strength.

Instead of right and wrong, which changed based on the opinion of the person demanding it, he should instead look at regret and satisfaction. If he walked away now, would he regret this decision? If he stepped in and helped this person, would he be satisfied with that decision? The grander debates of karma and ethics could be left to philosophers. All he needed was to know whether or not he'd despise himself for turning a blind eye.

"Hah..." Jaune sighed, smiling despite his own dismay. "It really would be easier to just walk away, but I suppose the easiest option is always the one we end up regretting later on." He stood, picking up his staff. "Very well."

It took him ten minutes to pick his way down the cliff, but the tracks were easy to follow, especially with blood speckled on grass and leaves as he went. The wounded soldier wasn't in the right mind to cover their tracks, so it was easy to see where they'd gone by bushes pushed aside, twigs broken, blood smeared against a tree they'd leaned on for support, and some scattered medical supplies spilled out a bag as they looked for what they needed.

Jaune paused to collect those in case they were necessary, and followed more slowly, knowing that they'd have to stop soon. If not to treat themselves then because blood loss would make them weak.

Sure enough, he found them soon after, slumped down against a tree with one arm looped around it as though they'd tried to catch themselves while falling and failed, sliding down its trunk.

Jaune set his staff down and moved to check on them.

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Specialist Winter Schnee was surprised when she woke up – because she'd been so sure she never would again once she closed her eyes. Pain was an unwelcome but logically advantageous experience, because it meant she could still feel it. Memories of the final battle and assault flashed through her head and she kept her eyes shut, taking a moment to try and figure out her situation.

Her helmet had been removed and there was a tightness around her stomach and chest that, combined with the fact she hadn't bled out, pointed to medical attention. That was a good sign, but Menagerie would have wanted to take a Schnee alive anyway so it didn't mean anything. The fact that her hands and legs weren't bound, which she discovered with a concealed movement to test, was a better sign. The faunus wouldn't have left her loose like this.

It was only then did she dare open her eyes, taking in the darkness in the sky and the orange glow of a nearby fire. Beside it, facing her and within view, was a figure sat with an open book of some sort over his knees.

Tempting as it was to leap to her feet and demand answers, Winter wasn't sure she had questions. She recalled the last of her squad being killed, recalled stumbling into the forest to die, and could piece together what happened well enough from still being alive. Perhaps she could have asked his name and who or what he represented, but she had the feeling trying to stand would end up with her passing out. Instead, she took a deep breath and cleared her throat, signalling her wakefulness. It was better to cooperate than not.

The man's head rose, and she realised he was more of a boy – practically Weiss' age. Soft blonde hair, bright blue eyes and a complexion reminiscent of Atlas or Vale more than Mistral. Importantly, he had no faunus ears and no tail. Some faunus had features less obvious, but most in Menagerie's forces wore them proudly, if only to avoid incidents of friendly fire. Having faunus features was as much a part of their military uniform as Atlas' white helmets were, and hers was stacked at her side atop some folded bloody cloth.

"You're awake. That's good. You need to eat to replenish your blood." He set his book down, an odd scroll, and removed the lid from a bubbling pot. Winter couldn't smell anything, which she expected was more due to her state of injury than anything. "It's meat. Good for iron and blood. Do you need help sitting?"

Good question.

Now that she was sure she wasn't dead or about to be, Winter took a breath and tried to decide how best to sit up. Her core was where she'd been injured, so rather than strain that to drag her body up, she swept one leg up over her knee and rolled onto her side. It hurt, but more in the sense of sore muscles and stitches than torn skin and bleeding. With a hand down on the grass, she was able to push herself up.

"It... It seems I can..." Her own voice sounded alien to her ears. Deep and scratchy. "Do... Water...?"

He provided her own military canteen. It felt heavier than she remembered it being. "There's a river nearby," he explained. "I used your original water to clean your wound and then filled it back up. It's as fresh as can be."

Winter nodded, and then felt dizzy from that small motion. Unscrewing the cap with trembling hands, she toom a long drink, wincing as the cool water almost seemed to scratch and catch on her sore throat. Swilling some around her mouth, she tried to spit some out, but was so weak that she burbled and dribbled it down her chin instead. Embarrassment warred with the cold logic that she was lucky to be alive, let alone feeling a little embarrassed.

The boy provided her some fresh cloth from his backpack so she could wipe her face clean and ladled some of his stew into a food safe container. Winter dreaded the idea that she might be too weak to eat and need him to help with that as well, but she'd be damned if she didn't try on her own first.

"I used the last of the spices in your ration pack. I hope you don't mind."

Polite. Overly polite. For saving her life, he could have damn well used her underwear as earrings for all she cared. Winter mumbled her thanks as she accepted the hot bowl and balanced it awkwardly in her lap. Thankfully, she found the strength to dig her spoon in and eat on her own.

It was tasteless.

The blood loss had dulled her senses, which was a shame as the food looked and probably was quite delicious. Winter forced herself to chew and swallow the bland and tough meat and broth despite how it made her feel. Right now, she needed iron and protein to replenish blood, and it was obvious he knew that if he'd gone and hunted red meat for her. So, she finished the bowl, and then accepted and forced herself to eat some bread that she also couldn't taste, before washing it down with painful water.

Only after that was all done did she ask him a question. "Who are you?"

"Jaune Arc. I'm a traveller from Vale looking for... well, looking for someone here in Mistral. I'm not on either side of this war."

Winter doubted that. Normally, she'd have been quite dismissive of anyone seeking to claim they weren't involved, especially when the faunus had launched attacks on Atlas, Vale and Mistral now. The dead were piling up and they'd even launched missiles at the city of Atlas itself, killing over a hundred civilians. This was a war against humanity, and this human claimed it didn't involve him. Ridiculous.

But...

She was injured, would have died, and he had helped her. It was reason enough to swallow her patriotism and let him get away with his silly statement. Coward or no, she owed him.

"If you feel up for talking," he began, "Why were you behind enemy lines? Is Atlas that reckless that they'd throw people away like that?"

"No." Winter pushed down her anger, mostly because if Atlas had done that then he'd have been right to criticise. "No, that's not what happened. My squad and I were transporting wounded from the front lines when the retreat was called and we were left stranded when our aircraft was shot down. Rather than push back through the faunus' battle lines, we were attempting to loop around and reach Mistral, then cross through neutral territory to our own lines."

"But you were caught."

"Yes. It was... It was always likely we would be. Everyone knew our odds were impossibly slim."

The boy nodded. "I'm sorry for the loss of your people."

"Thank you."

It didn't feel enough but then there was nothing he could do about it. Nor she, at this point. Going back to bury them would just mean getting caught herself when the faunus came to look for their missing companions. At this point she could only hope Menagerie treated their bodies with respect.

"I must return to Atlas," she said. "Which means making it through to Mistral." Winter almost felt like she ought to apologise for undoing his work in helping her, but she had to make herself clear. "Once I have recovered, I shall leave you and head on alone."

"Is that really wise?"

No. It wasn't.

"I don't have a choice. I've a responsibility to return to my kingdom and my family, and to deliver news to the family of my fallen squad."

"Hmm. Well, I need to head to Mistral myself so I suppose we could travel together."

"That might not be the safest option." It would be for her, but it would be poor repayment not to point out the risk. "Travelling alone, you might be ignored by Menagerie's forces but you won't be with me. You'll be considered to be actively aiding me, at which point they will attack you."

"That may be true but I also need to make it to Mistral to find the people I'm looking for. It makes even less sense to abandon you and split up when we'd be heading in the same direction anyway."

"..." Winter hated herself for not fighting harder. "Very well. The assistance will be appreciated. Are you... I can see you're capable of hunting and patching me up, but should Grimm attack—"

"I can defend myself. Don't worry."

"You're a huntsman?"

"No. I've simply been taught how to protect myself." He eyed her leg, or so it seemed. It took Winter an embarrassing amount of time to realise he was looking to her sabre, which he'd left against her on the floor.

"I'm a Specialist," she explained. "I'm trained as a huntress but my role is military instead of what a huntress would traditionally do. I still have aura and can fight Grimm but... not effectively like this. Until this heals, I'll be a liability."

"That's fine." He was too confident in her opinion, but Winter didn't have a lot of options. "I can handle Grimm. Did the enemy forces you ran into have a huntsman as well or...?"

Winter frowned. "We're not sure. Menagerie doesn't play host to an academy but there are members of their forces who can fight on a level almost equivalent."

It was almost because it was never consistent. Sometimes they ran into a faunus who could fight like three huntsmen, sometimes one who could fight like half a huntsman, but still more than the average soldier. They were always uniformed and marked with a black ribbon, and not a single one taken alive would spill secrets. They all chose to die rather than give anything away.

"We believe Menagerie has faunus huntsmen and huntresses who have started training them," she said. It was a leading theory. Some sort of rogue academy or military training camp. "The one I ran into wasn't as strong as some I've seen, but he was able to endure long enough to cut me open, even if it cost him his own life."

Winter had seen faunus in the war pull off far more, so she knew she was fortunate to have run into one who was close to her ability. There were rumours of one on the western coast who had the strength of ten huntsmen. Winter eyed her new companion, wondering what he thought of the news, but he didn't look worried.

Overconfident, or was he a huntsman himself? He'd claimed not to be, but people lied for many reasons. He might have been a deserter from Vale or someone who wanted to keep their past a secret. It really didn't matter seeing as how they'd be parting ways in Mistral. Interrogating him would only give him reason to abandon her, and that would be less than ideal.

"Do you mind losing the uniform?" he asked. "It gives you away."

"Hmph." Winter closed her eyes. "Had we spares, we'd have done so long ago – but we didn't dare approach any villages here to ask. Even if they hate the faunus, they'll be too afraid not to report us."

She could see his angle, though.

"You might be able to approach one and ask, however. I'll gladly lose the uniform if you can get me something to wear."

He smiled. "Then that'll be our plan. We'll rest tonight and you can recover tomorrow while I go get you some clothes."

"We should move on first," she said. "Staying close to where the battle took place will put us in danger." He was shaking his head. "No?" she asked. "Why not? It's reckless to stay too close—"

"I already considered that. We're fifteen miles from where your squad fell."

Fifteen—?

"You carried me for fifteen miles...?"

"Yes." He looked a little awkward for a moment. "I'm sorry if that upsets you, but—"

"No. No, I'm not upset. More... surprised."

The distance was good, and a weight off her shoulder, but it only made her imagine her weight on his. Fifteen miles was no small trek, especially carrying a wounded soldier. Winter was light, but her equipment and uniform was not when combined with her bodyweight.

A Semblance, perhaps? It made more sense than to imagine he had literally carried a bleeding woman for fifteen miles before stopping to bandage her up. It would have taken hours to carry someone that far.

Well, he's competent if nothing else. And he's the best I'm going to get.

"We'll go with your plan, then. Thank you again, Jaune. And I will be happy to pay you back in any way once I reach Mistral. You say you're looking for some people. Family? Friends?"

"Murderers, actually. People who killed someone important to me."

Winter tensed. "In the war? I'm sorry but losses do happen..."

"Criminals, actually. They came to rob me and my... my grandfather. They killed him while I managed to escape, stealing valuable and sentimental items from him as they went. I need to find them."

"Ah." Winter relaxed a little. "That, I may be able to help with. At the very least I can take their descriptions and pass them on to Atlas Command. If we know of them, we might be able to point you in the right direction."

It was the least they could do, and she was influential enough to push for it – her father would as well, once he knew she was safe. Assuming they made it back safe at all. Winter felt her body failing her and apologised, laying back down on her back as her head grew heavy.

Jaune poked at the fire. "It's fine if you want to sleep. I can keep watch."

That was unhealthy and inadvisable given how long he'd likely been awake, and yet military protocol didn't mean much when she was fading out of consciousness. Winter tried to mumble her thanks, but managed to only mumble gibberish before she closed her eyes and drifted off.

At least for now she was still alive.

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Jaune watched the pretty older woman fall asleep, lulled to rest by hot food, a warm fire and her own exhaustion. Agreeing to care for her would only cause him more trouble as she herself had said, and yet he didn't think he'd be able to be happy with himself if he'd left her and gone on alone. He'd forever wonder if she made it out alive or not.

"I suppose this is my code now," he said, poking at the fire to make it burn a little hotter. "I know you warned me not to get dragged in to help every single person who needs help, Master Ren, but I can't stand by and do nothing. I hope you're proud of me regardless."

The fire gave no answer, and Jaune suspected Master Ren would only tell him that he didn't need the validation of an old man. Jaune should only ask whether he, himself, was proud of the actions he had taken.

And to that, he supposed that he was.

Next Chapter: 6th August

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