Note:
I have my stupid awards ceremony and speech coming up again soon (3rd October) and need to take a week off around it to prepare. I really thought the business would be closed before getting to it, but it appears not ffs.
As such, there will be no updates from Monday 30th Sept to Sunday 6th October. Both to let me get some prep down before, and to have a chance to unwind after it's over. Thankfully this is the last time I'll ever have to do it.
No updates next week, basically.
Chapter 19
Life in Mistral was unusual to say the least. On the surface, it was a bustling and thriving city where people went about their normal days and carried on life as usual. Restaurants remained busy, crowds shopped in both indoor and outdoor markets, and couples walked hand in hand together on their way to the cinema or a park.
And then, every now and then, explosions would sound in the distance, and, in rare cases, the sounds of gunfire would be made out. Occasionally, they would see a bomber fly by in the distance, never over Mistral for that would defy the treaty, but off to the side of it. Sometimes a blast would be bright enough to light up the night.
Jaune flinched the first few times it happened, stopping in the street to look in the direction of it, but few others did. People would bump into his back and cuss him out for stopping, walking around him and ignoring the war happening just outside their city. Barking dogs would be shushed, and crying babies would be taken away by their mothers, as if being alarmed at the sounds of open warfare was a source of personal embarrassment to them and their families.
The battles never reached Mistral, both sides having their interests in keeping the city and the kingdom on their sides. In the lobby of the hotel he was staying at, Jaune found fresh frustration in how the hotel employees would keep changing the TV channel whenever he tried to find out more about the war. News reports were swiftly changed to sports games or daytime television. The one time he asked to watch it, he was roundly ignored. A rare moment of poor customer service.
"Arc. You're here. Good."
Jaune turned in his seat. "Winter. You're still in Mistral?"
"General Ironwood has ordered I stay here until I've been cleared by medical. Not to mention I no longer have a unit to return to. May I sit?" He nodded, and she took the chair opposite him. "Thank you. I hope the hotel has been to your liking."
"It's been pleasant enough."
"General Ironwood will be pleased to hear that." The reminder of who was paying for it didn't feel entirely on accident. "Have you managed to find the people you're looking for here in Mistral?"
"No." All he had were a few names and descriptions to go by, and no way of forcing anyone to take him seriously. "I've tried to speak to the headmaster of Haven to see if they previously studied there, but his secretary keeps making excuses. I expect she thinks it'll be a waste of the headmaster's time."
"It's not every day a headmaster will agree to meet with a random person off the street. Perhaps if you were the parent of a child there, but not just anyone. They might think you're trying to ask to join their school."
Jaune tried not to let his thoughts about that show, but a little snort might have made its way out. Winter didn't outwardly react to the dismissive sound aimed towards huntsman culture. Master Ren wouldn't have approved of it anyway. Huntsmen might be inferior to a true practitioner, but that didn't mean one couldn't kill the other. Master Ren's demise proved that.
Beyond Haven, he hadn't had much luck in his search. Their names weren't recognisable to the average people on the street, meaning they weren't famous, and his attempts to browse through old newspapers in one of the city's public libraries hadn't found anything either. They either hadn't come from Mistral at all, or they simply weren't well-known. Annoyingly, the latter possibility was just as realistic as the former.
"General Ironwood might be able to get you a meeting with the headmaster."
Jaune was sure he could. The headmaster of a school wouldn't ignore a pointed request from the commander of an army, and Ironwood could put him into one with a snap of his fingers. The only question was what Jaune would have to do to earn that luxury. It wouldn't be given freely, and Winter wasn't here just to make small talk.
"Why are you here, Winter?"
"I'm checking up on you—"
"I'd have thought saving your life would earn me an honest answer."
Winter sat back, flinching. "I'm sorry," she said. "General Ironwood asked me to contact you and ask if you'd given his offer any thought. But I did want to see how you were doing."
"I don't want to get dragged into your war."
"The General's offer to kill Grimm wouldn't require you to—"
"We both know that's but a stepping stone. It will start like that, with small tasks that don't pull me into the conflict, but then he will ask for more, and offer more as a reward, slowly drawing me toward the frontlines until I'm forced to choose between Atlas and Menagerie. I'm not an idiot, Winter. I know he – and you – are curious about how it is I can fight like I do."
"It's not just that. You healed me. Our doctors say my wound looks at least a week older than it should, as if I spent a whole week resting and healing instead of trekking across Mistral with you. A Semblance that can heal would be very—"
"It's not a Semblance."
"It's not…?" Winter's eyes narrowed. "But it must be! What else could it be? I can understand if you want to keep it a secret, but there's no other explanation."
No other that they knew. Of course he couldn't say what it was, that it was teachable, or they'd want him even more. Jaune grunted instead, allowing her to believe she had him. Better they think it a Semblance unique to him than something he could instruct multiple people in doing.
Because he couldn't. It would take years, maybe decades. The fact he'd learned it sooner wasn't because of his own incredible skill so much as it was Master Ren's experienced instruction. Jaune had no idea how to teach, and trying to teach someone who was older and more set in their ways would be a lot harder. He'd come to Master Ren a blank slate. Young enough to have an open mind, with no goals or draws on his time thanks to the death of his family.
Any soldier he tried to teach would have a hundred other things on their mind, and would constantly be impatient, with officers itching to put them to work or on the battlefield. Then there was the simple fact that teaching someone who didn't believe in your craft in the first place would be next to impossible. If they even subconsciously held that what Jaune could do wasn't possible, they'd never be capable of it.
"I did come with something for you," she said. "General Ironwood promised to have a cursory look for the individuals you mentioned. He was able to find some small amount of information for you."
"And this will be given freely?"
"No, but the price for it has already been paid by helping me." Winter removed a small sheet of paper and set it on the table. One sheet. It wasn't much. "We weren't able to find much on Cinder and Tyrian, assuming those are even their real names. What we actually tracked was Mercury Black – the one you listed as being without legs. Mostly, we tracked through his father, Marcus Black."
"Is he alive?"
"No. Dead in a fire, presumed started by his own son."
Damn it. There went the lead before he'd even begun. Jaune took the paper anyway and began to read. Most of the information was on Marcus, who had allegedly been a killer for hire. It seemed the apple hadn't fallen far from the tree. The man's home was listed as formerly being in Mistral, albeit outside a village to the north.
"I suppose this is my next stop. Cinder and her allies might have visited there."
"We thought it might be. General Ironwood wants you to have this." She presented him with a medal, and a slip of paper in a wooden case. "It contains a writ of passage from the general that should see you able to cross through our territory freely."
Funny. He had one from Menagerie as well. That was probably more because it was convenient for both sides to have these, rather than something that made him special. Neither side wanted their troops caught in a crossfire with neutral parties.
"I wouldn't advise crossing to Menagerie's side anyway, and you can always pass freely into the city of Mistral again. I have a request for you, though. If you're willing."
Jaune took the medal and the writ and stored them in his robes. "I'll consider it."
"My sister is currently active along the route to your destination."
"Your sister…?"
"Weiss." Winter smiled fondly. "She is a huntress-apprentice, trained privately by the best teachers my family could hire. When I was assigned to Mistral, she asked to be as well, despite my wishes. Thankfully, she's been working on protecting our supply lines from Grimm and keeping the settlements in our captured area safe rather than fighting Menagerie's forces. I've as of yet been unable to contact her to let her know I'm safe."
Jaune leaned back. "You want me to deliver to a letter to her and let her know you're alive? That's it?"
"That's it." Winter nodded and set the letter, already written, on the table. "It may seem a small thing to you, but it would mean a lot to me. I'd wait for her here, but there's no telling when I'll be reassigned. I may not have the chance to see her before I'm sent back to the frontlines."
It was a small thing to him. A tiny thing. Jaune took the envelope. "I'll see it delivered to her. What village is she currently in and how do I get there?"
"Thank you." Winter smiled warmly. "Thank you so much. I've prepared you a map both to the village she's stationed at, and to Marcus Black's former home. I had hoped you would agree."
It wasn't like he could say no to this. Not when family was involved.
/-/
"I did as you asked, sir."
"Thank you, Winter." General Ironwood signed a document and set it down, and only then spared a glance for the specialist in his doorway. "You have something more to say to me? Speak your mind."
"I do not fully approve of this, sir."
"I'm sure you don't. I can't say I do either. Still, if we were to play this solely by the rules then we should be arresting the young man and shipping him back to Vale."
General Ironwood flipped over a sheet on his desk, upon which lay a WANTED poster with Jaune Arc's details on it. Winter saw it and grimaced. "He's not a coward, sir. I don't believe him a deserter either. I'm inclined to believe his story over Vale's."
"The truth is what the government decides, especially in wartime. Vale can't afford to look anything less than strict when it comes to their draft. Whether or not he has his reasons, he disobeyed it and attacked a huntress-apprentice. We're already doing him a favour by neglecting to pass this onto our men stationed here."
That wasn't entirely selfless of course. Coming down on Arc had the potential to drive him to the very people who would accept him, and they were only across the street. If he was half as competent as Winter said – and he had no reason to doubt her – then Atlas didn't need him as an enemy.
On the contrary, they could make use of an ally who could heal their best and brightest, not to mention his skill was by all accounts on part with what they'd seen from Menagerie's best troops. The strangely competent soldiers who fought up close and personal, not quite huntsmen but something close to them. Not a single one of them had been taken alive, mostly on account of the force required to put them down in the first place. Aura was all or nothing, requiring lethal measures to drain it and then, in the instant it was gone, killing the person you'd been shooting at. It was difficult to gently bring someone with aura down.
"Did you ask him about his Semblance?"
"I did, sir. He was dismissive at first and wouldn't talk on it."
"Dismissive of what?"
"It almost felt like he was dismissive at the idea of it being his Semblance…"
Ironwood frowned. If not that then what? Unless the man was in possession of some miracle drug that could heal wounds, there was nothing else it could be. There was no technology available that could do what had been done to Winter in so short a time, and without stitches or drugs to boot. It had to be a Semblance.
"It would benefit us if you could get him to open up about his past."
"Sir…" Winter shifted uncomfortably. "I'm not that kind of person."
"I am not suggesting you seduce him—"
"I'm not sociable, sir."
"Ah." That was problematic. He found Winter rather easy to get along with, but then Ironwood would be the first to admit he wasn't a social butterfly either. "Perhaps your sister will have better luck with him. You did ask her help in the letter, yes?"
Winter sighed. "Yes sir, I did."
"I know you don't like it, Winter. I'm not a fan of such measures either. But we need what help we can get. We are losing this war. If this continues, we will be pushed back to Atlas, and then more drastic measures will be implemented."
"I would argue that is more the fault of Vale than one man, sir."
"Vale are our allies."
Winter pulled a face. "And their aid has been paltry. They've been gathering their forces for months now and have yet to commit any outside their kingdom. With all due respect, I don't see why we should be doing their work for them."
General Ironwood chuckled. Her opinions weren't uncommon among the men, and he shared them. Still, with ambassadors in Mistral and their alliance still being strategically important, he couldn't be seen agreeing. "I'll take that into consideration. Besides, this keeps him from being noticed by any of the Valean ambassadors we have to deal with. If he's busy running around outside of Mistral, there's less chance of him being seen."
"And is that the only reason, sir?"
"Of course it isn't. But that's war, specialist. The first casualty is the truth. The second is the morals we hold to."
"You already have information on the people he's after, don't you?"
"No."
"Is that because there is none or because you haven't bothered to look?"
"It's because, as you said before, Vale's business isn't ours. Helping one man deal with the murder of his teacher in another country isn't our duty. If he proves useful to us, I'll do what I can, but until then there are too many things that require my attention." He looked up at her. "If that's all, specialist…?"
Winter grimaced. "That's all, sir. Thank you for your time."
General Ironwood watched her go before he sighed and got back to work. He felt bad for her, he really did – and grateful to Arc for bringing her back – but if he showed weakness now, he'd be replaced. And by someone far more willing to try and end this war by targeting Menagerie directly.
Bombing Menagerie to the ground won't end this, though. Their fighting men and women are already in Mistral. If we destroy Menagerie, they will have nowhere to go. Nothing to fight for but to come to Atlas and kill every single person they can.
In the interests of avoiding a bloodbath on both sides, he had to make use of every tool handed to him. Ironwood reached for his scroll.
"Clover, this is General Ironwood. I need you to do a little something for me."
/-/
Jaune got to put his new writ of passage to immediate use when it came to leaving Mistral through the northern gate. While the Atlesian soldiers stationed outside it legally had no right to bar his travel, it would have been a bad idea to slip through and raise the alarm. They had erected their own secondary wooden gate. It was little more than a barricade with a red and white striped pole to stop vehicles. There, they checked every person leaving and asked their purpose.
It didn't take them long to see his writ of passage and although the soldier asked him to wait while he spoke to a superior, Jaune was soon being ushered through without the usual questions or a search of his person.
"You're through, sir. Please cooperate with any Atlesian forces you should see on the road. We're doing our best to protect you."
From their own war. Jaune smiled anyway, knowing it was the same message regurgitated to every person, and thanked the soldier for his time. Soon, he joined the sparse numbers of people beginning their travels on the other side. There weren't many of them, and most of them looked to be treaders ferrying foodstuffs from the city to local villages.
There were, however, a few huntsmen and huntresses as well. Mistral ones. Their vibrant outfits and mechashift weapons gave them away. Unlike back home and presumably in Atlas as well, the huntsmen here weren't being drafted. Haven was still operating as a fully normal school alongside Shade. It was Atlas Academy and Beacon that were forcing their students to work adjacent to the military as huntsman-apprentices.
The huntsmen teams only had to flash a badge to be allowed through the lines, though Jaune noticed one with bear ears getting his fair share of suspicious looks from the soldiers. They checked his ID a little more thoroughly than they did anyone else's, and the faunus knew it judging by his impatient scowl. Winter had said there were faunus among the soldiers of Atlas, but that clearly didn't mean everyone was fine with them.
"Hey! Hey, you! The blonde with the sword!"
Jaune stopped, turning to see if the man shouting out had meant him. Apparently, he had. A man stood in front of a wagon pulled by a single horse, his shaggy dark hair sticking around two faunus ears shaped like a dog's. He was garbed in local clothes akin to Jaune's own but didn't look entirely comfortable in them.
"You're going north, right?" asked the faunus. "Only reason to come out this way. I need to ship some goods to Argus. Are you any good with that weapon?"
"I make do. Why?"
"I can offer you a ride on my wagon as far as you want to go in exchange for a little protection," the merchant said, rubbing his hand through the back of his hair. "The route north shouldn't be too bad with Atlas covering it, but you never know with Grimm, not to mention deserters. My family would sleep easier if I had someone with me."
It was a fair idea. Jaune eyed the wagon and its single horse, knowing he could make better time on foot using his aura as fuel. He could run for miles, and through the night if needs be, but if he was to meet with Winter's sister then it made no sense to reach her village at night. Better to arrive in the morning.
"I can travel with you a short way," Jaune said, walking toward the faunus. "But only as far as the village of Kori."
"Ah, that's fine. Any help is enough, and I planned to stop there anyway. The name's Marrow. Marrow Armin."
The moment their hands met, Jaune felt the man's aura tickle against the meridians in his fingertips. It wasn't active but it surged through the faunus' body, quite clearly unlocked. Jaune shook the hand, wondering whether he'd stumbled across a spy from Adam's forces. It seemed the obvious conclusion, but then he had to wonder why a spy would invite discovery by asking someone to travel with him.
And why single him out? There were other people here. Something was off. Jaune kept his expression even however, releasing the man's hand and walking to the wagon with him. If Menagerie's finest were trained like him, and from the Black Ribbon Sect, then they should know he was able to tell they had aura. At the very least his aura would have been more hidden, since he'd be aware of the risk of discovery.
"Do you live in Argus?" Jaune asked, climbing into the back of the wagon. He quickly looked over the supplies there, six barrels stood vertically with markings for cabbages, potatoes and carrots stamped on them.
"Lived there my whole life," Marrow said, cracking the reins. The horse slowly trundled forward. "Had thoughts of moving to Atlas but then the war started and I figured it wouldn't be a good idea for a faunus to be there."
"Hmm. And you travel to Mistral for food?"
"Yep."
Odd. Argus was closer to Atlas, and racial tensions or not it would make a lot more sense to bring in foo by sea. Less travel, more safety from the Grimm, and most importantly he wouldn't have been travelling towards an active warzone.
"What about you?" asked Marrow. "What are you headed to Kori for?"
"I've a letter to deliver to someone."
"You look a little too armed for the postal service."
"It's a dangerous world. I'd have expected a merchant to travel with an escort – or at least with a weapon."
"Ah, well, I'm not really a merchant so much as a guy bringing in food for my family. Belts have been pulled tight. And I figured it'd be safe. Atlas is protecting the routes after all. Not too much to worry about."
No one in Mistral spoke so positively about Atlas. To be fair, no one in Mistral spoke so positively about Menagerie either. Both sides were seen as a burden on the country, to the point that Jaune had seen some diners posting up signs saying soldiers from either side weren't welcome. The government of Mistral might have brokered this deal, but no one liked it. Certainly not someone who lived outside Mistral and who had to live in territory that was now occupied.
He's from Atlas. Either a currently serving soldier or a deserter – but then if it were the latter, he should have had no chance of making it through the checkpoint.
Jaune tapped his foot against the wooden barrels in the back. There was a quiet, hollow thunk. Sitting back, he gently let his aura circulate through his meridians. If this was an ambush, he would be ready, but he suspected this was Winter and Ironwood's works. Those questions of theirs had been a little too pointed, especially about his apparent Semblance. He hadn't thought they would send someone to keep an eye on him, however.
"Your accent," said Marrow. "You're not from Mistral, are you?"
"No."
"But you dress the part."
"My teacher is the one who provided me clothing. He was born in Mistral."
"Is that the one who taught you to be a huntsman?"
"I didn't say I was a huntsman."
Marrow panicked, going tense. "I mean… well, you're travelling and armed. I assumed you had to be."
Much like everyone did. It was convenient as a means of concealing who he was, these assumptions of theirs, but it was also irritating to think of how much had been lost to time. He'd really hoped he would be able to visit a sect here in Mistral, but it was looking like none existed. They definitely couldn't have still been a thing in Atlas if Ironwood and Winter had been so ignorant. And judging from the reaction of the Black Ribbon Sect's members when they knew who he studied under, he wouldn't be welcome there either.
It's a shame. I'd wondered if the Lotus Sect might still be a thing here in Mistral, there was no mention of them in the library. And the martial arts clubs and schools I saw in the city were more of the hobby and sport variety.
He could have asked more explicitly but, given the reaction he got from mentioning Master Ren to the Black Ribbon Sect, he didn't feel comfortable throwing the name out in public. Who was to say someone in Mistral wouldn't have the same opinion? Maybe there was a reason the Lotus Sect were no more, and Master Ren lived in exile in Vale.
"It's a night's journey to Kori," Marrow said. "You can catch some sleep if you like."
Jaune smiled faintly. "I shall be fine. I rested well before leaving Mistral."
"Fair enough, We'll make camp tonight and sleep then."
One of them would at any rate.
Though Jaune suspected neither of them would get any shuteye.
/-/
Marrow remained curious for much of the journey, asking probing questions about his past and about his teacher, all of which Jaune answered with vague responses. He wasn't obtuse with it, knowing the secrecy would only make Atlas more suspicious, but he kept the details short and ambiguous.
Yes, he'd been taught to fight by an old man in Vale. No, Jaune didn't know if the man was a retired huntsman as he'd never cared to ask. No, his teacher wasn't still around and yes. Yes, his sword came from the man but no, it wasn't mechashift and had no particular properties. No, Jaune didn't have any thoughts on the war.
If Marrow was frustrated by the responses, he hid it well. The one time he did come close to overstepping himself was when he asked what Jaune carried in his bags. It was a little too pointed a question.
"My belongings," Jaune said, his voice firm. "And food for the trip."
The ride was quiet for a while after, or at least it was quiet on Jaune's end. Marrow talked nervously about Mistral and the war, trying to draw him into conversations he had no interest in. Eventually, they came to a stop less than ten miles from Kori. Jaune could have reached it an hour ago.
"No point us arriving in the night," said Marrow. "We should stop here and camp. It's been a safe trip. Our thanks to Atlas for that."
"Indeed." Jaune hopped down with his pack still on his back. "I'm going to take a small walk to stretch my legs."
"W—What? But it's not safe out!"
"I'm sure it is. Atlas is taking care of the roads, right?" Jaune smiled and strolled away, leaving Marrow floundering. He travelled a short distance, and only once he was sure he was alone did he sit and pull out a scroll to read.
He'd longed to study for the duration of the ride but wouldn't have dared show interest in any of the scrolls with someone from Atlas watching him. Even if Marrow couldn't read them, he'd have reported it back to Ironwood and then there would have been renewed interest in them.
I really wish I'd told him I wanted to travel alone. I could have reached Kori by now, and I wouldn't have to worry about what he wants from me.
It might just be for safety's sake. Jaune knew his story to Winter could be seen as suspicious, and since he fought like Menagerie, someone must have raised the possibility that he was working with them. Marrow might just have been sent to make sure he was heading the way he said he was, and they might have sent a faunus to do it in the hopes a spy for Menagerie might open up to him. Though, if that were the case, Marrow would have been better off being dismissive of Atlas.
Perhaps he was just bad at this espionage stuff.
Jaune eyed the letter from Winter in his pack and considered opening it. Her sister would notice, however, and the loss of trust wouldn't be worth seeing what was within. He didn't need confirmation of Atlas' interest in him because it was as clear as day. What he needed was to visit this old home of Mercury Black and see if he couldn't find some leads as to where he and his allies might be.
When Jaune returned two hours later, Marrow had given up on waiting for him and was fast asleep in the back of the wagon. Jaune sat cross-legged at the base, closed his eyes, and focused on slowly and gently pushing his aura through his body. To anyone watching, he might have looked to be asleep, but in truth he was only resting his body, and was aware of everything through the night.
Come morning, he stood and yawned, acting as if he'd slept the whole night.
They reached Kori the next day, and Marrow looked just a little glum at not having gotten anything meaningful out of him. "Thanks for the ride," said Jaune, shaking the man's hand once more. Again, he felt aura running strong in the faunus. "Luckily, we didn't have to fight anyone off. I suppose we have Atlas to thank for that. Good lock on the way to Argus."
"Yeah. Good luck with whatever you're doing here."
Marrow Armin mounted his wagon and trundled away, carrying his empty barrels on the way to just out of sight, where Jaune was sure he would hand the wagon off to someone and double back with whatever squad he had brought with him. Shaking his head, Jaune hefted his pack up his shoulders and headed to the village of Kori. If Winter's sister shared her distinctive hair colouration, she should not be difficult to find.
Though he didn't expect her to find him before he could set foot in the village, the stamp of hooves sounding as a pure white horse trotted in front of him.
"Halt!" commanded the woman atop it, her white hair flashing behind her. "You are under arrest on suspicion of murder."
"What...?"
Next Chapter: 15th October (three weeks)
Like my work? Please consider supporting me, even if it's only a little a month or even for a whole year, so I can keep writing so many stories as often as I do. Even a little means a lot and helps me dedicate more time and resources to my work.
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur