Sorry this is updated out of order. I messed up last Tuesday.

Chapter 21

The body of the faunus hadn't yet been buried like the male farmer had been. The latter had been over a week ago, while this one was fresh. Sort of. At over two days old, it wasn't quite so fresh that Jaune didn't gag upon catching scent of it. He'd watched TV dramas with his family about hard-bitten cops wrinkling their faces and rookies throwing up, but he'd thought that was more to do with the sight of the blood and the horrific nature of death.

He hadn't expected it to be the raw stench of decay.

At least Weiss gagged as well, before she withdrew and wrapped a white cloth. A small bottle of perfume came out and doused it, and then she wrapped it over her nose and mouth. Given she didn't smell of perfume naturally, he couldn't help but think this was all the perfume was for. Jaune shook his head when she offered it and stepped back.

"You're the professional. I'll wait here."

"What a gentleman you are…"

Weiss crouched by the body and gingerly peeled some clothing off her. Jaune wasn't sure if he should look away or not. It was hard to talk about privacy with a cadaver, and he certainly wasn't going to feel excited at the undressing of a corpse.

"Small scars on her body," she remarked. "I noticed them before but they could have been from a life of hard labour. However, looking at them with more context it's obvious they're centred on her arms and chest area."

It felt like she was talking to herself more than she was to him, pausing to hum, and sometimes whispering things under her breath – as if she were creating some mental log to look over later. Jaune forced himself to watch and couldn't help but point out the one thing he noticed.

"There's a lot more muscle definition in her than you'd expect."

"Not impossible in someone working on a farm, but you're right – and it's worth remembering her story was that her village was drained by people leaving to join mercenary groups or bandits. Really, she looks like she could have fought in either. Add on the ears," Weiss touched the faunus ears, those of a dog, "—and the involvement of this Heavenly General, and I'm leaning towards her being ex-Menagerie."

"Ex?"

"A deserter or a traitor. Someone important enough that Wukong felt the need to come silence her."

"You don't think it a message to their own forces?"

"Not if he left the body here. Remember, it's been here over two days. If he wanted to bring back proof of her demise to someone, he'd have taken her head – or the whole body. Instead, he was content to leave it here. That suggests to me it was more about preventing her falling into Atlas' hands than it was punishing her."

"Hmm." Jaune crossed his arms. "But Wukong also waited here two days for you. Could she have been bait?"

"Possibly, but he couldn't have known I'd be the one coming and, if he somehow did, he'd have known I was coming after the first murder anyway. There was no need to rouse additional suspicion with a second."

It was a good point. "You're certain he couldn't have known? Spies do exist."

"I know that! And I'm not so stupid I can't realise they'll have spies among the faunus in Atlas, the same as how we undoubtedly have some in their camp. However, Wukong is deep behind enemy lines here. He won't have access to updated information. The CCT is disabled, and he wouldn't chance us catching a signal and using it to pinpoint his location."

"Fair point…"

Weiss sighed and stood, stepping back from the body and to him. Her face was scrunched up unhappily, and she pulled the cloth away, then wiped her face with her sleeve to remove residual perfume.

"It doesn't answer the question of why he waited," Weiss said, ushering them out the room. There was a villager stood waiting. "You can bury her," she told him. "Thank you for keeping her body for me."

The man nodded and signalled to some others. They must have already had a grave ready because they didn't bother with shovels, and instead started lugging a simple wooden coffin toward the room. Weiss led Jaune further away.

"Sun Wukong still stayed two days or more after killing her, and he stayed close enough to keep an eye on the village and see who came. I'm beginning to think she was a bigger threat to Menagerie than expected."

"Such as…?"

"One of our spies, perhaps. The idea came to me when you mentioned them having spies among us. If she was a suspected or confirmed spy, he might have been waiting to catch her handler within Atlas. Two birds with one stone."

"Could the first victim be that?"

"No." Weiss shook her head. "I wouldn't have been sent here if the first death was someone high up within the military. They'd have known something was wrong and sent a whole squad here to both investigate and to clear up any evidence. The reason I was sent is because the first death was a purely civilian matter. Though now I suspect the first discovered her secret and was killed by her. That was likely before Wukong even arrived."

"So, a potential traitor to Menagerie, then."

"Yes. Though whether she was a long-term spy for us or just someone who was looking to jump ship and sell information is up in the air. She might have intended to reach Mistral and petition General Ironwood for sanctuary, or she might already have had a contact in Atlas and was making her way north." Weiss sighed. "Or, for all we know, she hadn't yet decided if she would betray Menagerie at all, but the risk was too high for Wukong to take. Either way, she must have been someone important for him to sneak behind enemy lines to deal with her."

"Must have been," agreed Jaune. "I can't help but imagine his capture would be a big deal."

"Huge. It would be a major blow to their morale and a surge in our own. That's something he would know, so the fact he risked everything to do all this shows just how important she might have been." Weiss sighed. "I have a suspicion we won't find her belongings, but let's check."

Weiss might as well have been a prophet. The woman had been granted a house emptied by those fleeing the war, but once they got inside it was clear the place had been stripped clean. There was a pile of ash in the centre of the room where items had been piled up and burned. The fact the fire hadn't spread to the building and alerted the villagers was proof enough that someone had stayed to watch the fire and make sure it didn't.

"What happens now?" asked Jaune. "If you know that Menagerie is involved, is that case over...? Or do you need to stay and figure out the specifics?"

"It's whatever I decide it to be."

"Hm?"

"I'm not really an authority in these lands. The only power I'm given is what these people choose to give me. I'm an apprentice-huntress for a nation waging war with another that just so happens to be taking place around their homes. I'm not qualified to serve as an office of the law, let alone a detective. And, technically speaking, dealing with criminals in Mistral isn't my job."

"Then what is your job?"

"Doing whatever I'm told by Atlas," she replied. "In this case, making sure there aren't any dangerous elements in our backlines, or that any of our own troops aren't causing trouble that will reflect poorly on us."

"Damage control, then."

"Something like that. We don't have to do it. This is a war; we could let these places fall to ruin and just tell everyone it's Mistral's job to look after their people. It should be their job," she added, grimly. Jaune agreed. "But we want to be better than that. Atlas sent me here more to calm the locals than anything, to show them we care where their own kingdom does not. That someone gives a damn about their lives."

It wasn't an answer to his question. It felt like her venting and might have been because of her lack of sleep and the adrenaline from the fight. Jaune let her.

"Really, it's more about showing face than fixing anything. I always do my best to find the real culprit, but sometimes what the people want is just an excuse to relax. They'd rather be told the danger is over than have me spend weeks trying to crack the case. Weeks they have to spend worrying for their lives."

"Haven't you cracked this one?"

Weiss snorted. "Hardly. We have an assumption – and it's a likely one for why she was killed – but we don't know what she was doing, why Wukong wanted her, or even why or how she killed the first man. Or if she did. It could have been someone else who did it."

"Right. There could be two murderers."

"We don't have time to find out," she said. "Wukong is unlikely to kill people here. It serves no purpose but to turn people against Menagerie, which they won't want either. The residents are probably safe. We are not safe. We're targets. And anyone around us might become one as well."

"We? I think you mean you. You're the one he tried to kill."

"Initially, yes." Weiss turned to face him, arms crossed, lips drawn into a tight and self-satisfied smile. "But that was only at the start. He recognised you. He cursed your name. Come the end, he was more interested in killing you than me."

Angry words bounced around the inside of Jaune's head. He'd really hoped Weiss wouldn't notice or that, in the chaos of battle, she might have been a little more focused on her own life than listening in on what Wukong had said. Apparently not. And right after General Ironwood and Winter had expressed curiosity in his skills and past, too.

"This is the first time I've ever met Wukong. I promise you that."

"I don't doubt it. He didn't recognise you initially, and you had no idea who he was. But he recognised something – he mentioned... what was it? Lotus?" Jaune's face twitched. "Ah, I see I'm on the right path. I assume it's more than just the flower."

"It's more and less than what you're probably thinking. My teacher, who died before I came to Mistral, was a part of a martial arts school called the Lotus School." It was mostly true, but very dumbed down. Given no one cared to know about what the sects really were anymore, it would have been too much effort to explain in full. "I never knew anything about them, but it turns out there might be a less-than-friendly rivalry with a school on Menagerie."

"Less-than-friendly?" Weiss huffed. "Quite the inter-school relations you have if murder is the first instinct."

He could tell she was suspicious, and she was right to be, but Jaune raised his hands.

"Honestly, I'm as surprised by this as you. My teacher was an ancient man when I met him and he died only a few years later. I have no idea about the school beyond what he taught me, and I didn't even know this one on Menagerie existed before then. Let alone why they dislike us so much. I'm piecing it together as I go along."

"Hmmm. I'll believe you."

For now, her tone said. Jaune let out a sigh. He hadn't even been lying; he knew next to nothing. His only instinct was that someone, somewhere, in the past, had done something bad between the two schools. But knowing little about the culture, "bad" could have been murder someone or it could have been to refuse a wedding, or even just fail to show respect to a bested opponent. Jaune didn't want to believe Master Ren had killed people. And, so far, he had no evidence to suggest he had. It might have been as simple as Master Ren being a former student of the Black Ribbon Sect and then leaving them for the Lotus Temple Sect, making him a traitor in their eyes.

"Whatever the case, we're both targets," she said, "and we're both endangering the locals by staying here. We need to leave. Together."

"Well, I still want to check out the Black Manor, so we can go there."

"Yes. I did promise I would and I'll keep to that. You just need to be aware that we may be followed. It depends on how confident Wukong is on being able to best us." Her eyes slid to the side. "Or if he has others behind our lines with him, in which case we may be in real danger."

Danger that wouldn't go away if they hunkered down to wait it out. It was concerning, but it was also something they couldn't do anything about, and Master Ren had been clear that one shouldn't waste time stressing on such things.

"Worry about the things you can change," Jaune recited. "And be wise enough to understand what you cannot. If he has soldiers with him, there's nothing we can do about that. He'll bring them to us whether we stay here, move on, or try and retreat back to Mistral."

Weiss sighed. "Yes. And we might as well not bring them to these innocents. Let me speak with the village elder and tell him we've dealt with the case. That ought to calm them down. I just hope there isn't a second killer we're allowing to go free."

There wasn't much they could do about it if that was true. Staying to try and solve the case just meant bringing another killer to the village, one who was far more proficient and skilled than any local murderer could ever be.

Jaune collected his supplies and waited by the stable with Weiss' mare. It wasn't long before she returned, most of her own supplies having been kept in her saddlebags in the first place. The risk of theft was low in a place like this. It'd be foolish villagers who dared steal from a huntress here to find a criminal.

No one had dared.

"You came without a horse. Star isn't strong enough to carry the both of us. Shall I ask if the villagers can spare an animal?"

"There's no need," Jaune said. "I'm good on foot."

Weiss tried hard not to sound doubtful or dismissive. "We're looking to make distance and throw Wukong off our trail. And if he does catch us, you'll need to be ready to fight. Are you sure you'll be able to do that while exhausted?"

"Yes."

The greater problem was giving Weiss even more questions as to his capabilities, questions she would take back to her sister, but the same logic as for them leaving the village applied here. There was nothing he could do to change it. Weiss had already seen him fight, and if Wukong decided to take a second crack at her then she'd see even more of it, and that would happen whether or not he rode some donkey loaned from a village that couldn't afford to do so.

If keeping secrets depended wholly on Wukong's actions, it felt cruel and unfair to demand the villagers hand over what they couldn't afford to. The people in the fields were already doing so much by hand that taking what few animals they had left would push them to poverty. Besides, Ironwood and Winter were already curious. He couldn't make them any more so.

"If you say so..." Weiss huffed, clearly not believing him. "Then let's go."

/-/

Winter had been right to be so curious.

At first, Weiss had thought her sister's insistence a little odd and had even wondered if she hadn't developed a crush on the man. It would have been out of character for her, but Weiss could imagine anyone feeling closer to someone who saved you from certain death when caught behind enemy lines.

That opinion hadn't changed when he followed her around and asked silly questions during her investigation, but it certainly had when he fought off Sun Wukong and quite likely saved her life. Of course it had. In an instant, she'd realised Winter had been right. There was more to this man than he cared to admit.

The half a day from the village hadn't dissuaded her any, not when he loped casually along in a half-jog beside her horse for hours without need for rest. He was less sweaty than her mare, who was huffing and togging on the reins to let Weiss know she wanted to stop. His breathing was also impossibly even, so much so that she kept eyeing him and wondering if he wasn't some robot. Even the fittest of athletes would at least be panting after this long. Fitness alone couldn't remove the need to draw in more oxygen.

This is ridiculous. What is he...?

Weiss drew on her reins and Star was only too happy to stop. "We'll have to take a break here," she said. "Star needs a rest."

And wasn't it galling to admit that it was her horse who needed the break when she'd rolled her eyes at Arc for saying he would be fine on foot earlier? Had he been from the academy, she was sure he would have said "I told you so" or hammed it up, but he just nodded and slung his hefty backpack off his shoulders and set it by a tree. The thing didn't even look light. It wasn't as bulky as a military ruck, but it was close.

"You're rather fit," she said, as she removed the saddle and tack from her mare and withdrew a brush. The horse whickered unhappily until Weiss provided a bucket of food, at which point she quickly dug in while Weiss brushed the sweat off her coat. "I don't think I've ever met someone who could jog for so long."

"My teacher was a strong believer in health and fitness."

"I can tell..." It was difficult to not call him out on the absolute nonsense of that statement. Health and fitness was one thing, jogging for four hours without looking winded was another. "The academy in Atlas is quite focused on that as well, but I admit I'm not quite as... healthy as you seem to be. Any tips?"

"No alcohol, no sugar, no processed foods, no sweets, no television, no books, no supermarkets. Hunt for every meal you eat or go hungry. Forage for every snack. Sleep eight hours a day and train for every hour you're not hunting or foraging to survive."

Weiss stared at the man. "What...?"

"That was my timetable," he said, without a shred of humour. "My teacher lived an ascetic life. For me, there was nothing to do but train. It was how I spent my time and how I entertained myself. If I was restless, go for a run. If I was hungry, go for a run in the forest and find some mushrooms to eat. If I was bored, I'd best pick a new route to for a run in because there was nothing else to do."

For a moment, she thought he was being sarcastic. That he'd figured out she was poking and wanted to tell her so via a mocking answer. The deadly serious expression he wore put that to rest. Was that how he'd trained...? Weiss considered herself a hard worker, but she'd still had time to herself.

Qutie a lot of it, in fact. Hours to practice her music, to read books, to attend orchestral performances, to spend at her father's galas, to watch tournament fights. To rest, to have long baths, to go on holiday, to eat fine food, to indulge in some sweets after what felt like a hard day's work but was now sounding like an easy day's labour.

"I... I see..." Weiss turned back to her mare, feeling almost embarrassed at her own effort levels. "I suppose an inability to do anything else would make someone productive."

He snorted. "It certainly did for me."

"And how long did you train like that?"

"A few years. It's hard to accurately track the time when you don't have a scroll, watch or calendar."

Now that he mentioned it, she'd thought he looked quite... rustic. His clothing was Mistralian in origin, but didn't look like anything she'd seen in the city. It was old-fashioned – or maybe traditional was a better word, for it didn't look old or in bad shape. What clued her in the most was the way his pants were wrapped with bandages or cloth straps at the bottoms, to tie the fabric close to his legs where they tucked into his boots. Most people would have just bought tighter clothes, but his had the look of clothing that was meant to be adjusted when needed, clothing meant to serve both in relaxation, training, travel and combat.

For most people, it was easier to just have different sets for whatever purpose they had at the time and get changed when needed. His looked almost like a uniform, the shades of pale and darker blue serving to tie him into a central theme. His blonde hair tied back into a ponytail also fit the image, because it implied a state of living where it was easier to tie hair back then find someone who knew how to cut it to shape.

"Is there something on my clothing? You're staring."

"I'm just curious about them," she said, honestly. The last thing she wanted was him thinking she had a crush. "I've never seen clothes like them."

"Neither have I, to be honest. My teacher simply adjusted some of his to fit me. I've no idea where he got them from or what inspired them. He might have made them himself."

Another dead end, then. It was frustrating, but she couldn't push. And it didn't feel like he was lying. Besides, what would he know of the past of a man who he'd only met in his final years? They were just clothes at the end of the day. About the only thing that marked them as brow raising was that they were clearly Mistral inspired, from a man who had – according to Winter's letter – come from Vale. But it was hardly suspicious. People moved around all the time, more so since the war began.

"It's curious how you held up against Wukong."

"Is it? You didn't do so bad a job yourself."

Ah, there was the evasiveness. Weiss noted the way he suddenly turned to fidget with his bag rather than face her. It was a small victory, but it felt nice to have one.

"I barely got a chance to fight him, and that's not what I meant. The way he fought, the way Menagerie's best fight, is different from huntsmen."

"How so?"

"A huntsman focuses on one weapon with one or two variations – mechashift, normally. We're good at what we do but that specialisation comes at the cost of versatility. Unarmed, many huntsmen become less effective."

"You don't train in unarmed...?"

"Of course we do!" Weiss was a little offended he might think otherwise. They weren't stupid in the academies. "But unarmed combat isn't viable for everyone. Look at me." Weiss held her arms out, horse brush in one hand. "If I were a six foot man, I might do just fine, but I'm five foot at best and half the weight of an average man. I'm quite confident I could best a lot of men even without a weapon but pit me against a huntsman and the differences in height and weight will start to matter. It won't matter how hard I train because they will have trained that hard as well, and their natural advantages will make the difference."

"Sounds like an excuse to me."

Weiss' eye twitched. How dare he—? No. No, calm. Weiss took a deep breath, before his words could throw her intention to plug him for details out her mind. Winter wouldn't be impressed to hear how she'd lashed out at the man she wanted Weiss to get closer to.

You owe me for this, sister.

"Respectfully," she forced out. "I disagree. I could spend two hours everyday training to fight unarmed, and I could develop a style based solely around speed to take advantage of my size, but that would come at the cost of training in other ways. And my duties are supposed to be dealing with Grimm. That's our purpose."

"You're not facing Grimm now."

"I know that! And had I the benefit of prophecy when I first started training, I might have adjusted my schedule somewhat!" Her mare shifted, telling Weiss she was applying a little too much pressure. "Sorry," she whispered to her horse, stroking her flank, before she raised her voice again. "The point I'm making is that huntsmen and huntresses train with one goal in mind, that being to be viable threats against the Grimm. This is how things have always been and it's worked throughout history."

Arc scoffed.

Weiss did her best to ignore it.

"Menagerie's forces, or at least their best fighters, are different. At first we thought them huntsmen, but Menagerie lacks an academy and it's not like we couldn't check records with the academies. We know they haven't been trained as such. And the way they fight is... It's too varied, too different."

"You saw it with Wukong," she accused. "He used a staff, but he also had a blade within it, and then he had those explosive darts of his, and he's capable unarmed as well. What huntsman would split themselves in so many different ways? One melee and one ranged option I can accept, but what's the point of a bo staff and a hidden weapon within it?"

"To catch people off-guard," Jaune said.

"Exactly." Weiss felt her victory. "To catch people off-guard. Not Grimm. Grimm wouldn't be surprised and wouldn't have cared if you came at them with the blade straight away. The only thing Wukong's weapon would achieve is to surprise a human opponent by gutting them after what they assumed to be a blunt impact."

Finishing with her mare, Weiss poured some clear water from a bottle into a small bucket for her to drink from and then slipped her a sugar pellet. Just to help her recover some energy. The horse greedily slurped it up from her palm, and merrily crunched away at the treat. Weiss patted her head and then moved back to Arc, who had been silent since her point.

"Do you know how to throw knives?" she asked.

"I... Well, yes... though I'm not that good at it and I don't have any."

Weiss removed a dart from her pocket. It was one of Wukong's, one that had failed to detonate, and which she'd taken as evidence. It was a slim metal thing weighted toward the front, with no handle. "Show me."

Arc took it, and the way he held it was odd. She expected him to hold the back end between finger and thumb and flick to throw. That was how she imagined it'd be done. Instead, he laid it flat between his middle fingers on the underside of his palm and placed his thumb over the bottom to keep it there. It was almost a concealed weapon, some eighty per cent of it hidden under his fingers and only a thin sliver of metal visible from the top.

With a quick movement, he swept his hand out and let go.

He didn't throw it. There was no movement in the wrist. He just let the dart slide out from his thumb, and seemingly be guided by the channel he'd made with his fingers. The dart whisked almost-silently away to stick into a nearby tree.

Weiss had removed the dust from it, so it naturally did not detonate as Wukong's had.

"I was taught to throw weapons to help with hunting," he said, in answer to the silent question. "Most of my food came from fishing, but my master taught me to throw things to stun deer and other small animals. He didn't have darts like this, though. He had me whittle wooden stakes. About the same size but fragile."

Animal hunting. It was a reasonable excuse, and perhaps it had even been the origin of Menagerie's strange fighting style. There was nothing that said techniques that worked on animals couldn't be used on people, especially if you slipped explosive dust into a dart before throwing it.

But they can do more than just throw things like this. They fight like huntsmen, but they're more versatile and can do things huntsmen cannot. And so can he, she thought, staring down at her odd travelling companion. Winter was right. There's something on here. And I need to get to the bottom of it.

"Tell me more about your teacher and what we're looking for at this manor," she said. "If I'm to help you piece together the case of his murder, I'll need as much information as you can give me. Leave nothing out. It might be important."

Next Chapter: 19th November

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