Aaaand it's taking my mother to the hospital day. She kept saying how her knee didn't hurt last night after yesterday's fall and telling me there was no pain or swelling, and this morning she admits it hurt all night and now it's worse.

Man, I sure do enjoy being lied to, lol.

Edit: So, it's a damaged cruciate ligament with swelling. I have to take her back in tomorrow, but luckily there's no chapter update on a Wednesday so it shouldn't interfere with anything.

Chapter 7

.

Dear Jaune,

I can't wait to see the pictures of what Haven is like. Yang is in her last year soon but it's going to be aaaaages before I get to go to Beacon. Yang is going to be insufferable when she goes, and the house is going to be so lonely. At least I'll have Zwei to keep me company.

I'm working on perfecting my ultimate weapon (pictures enclosed!) and it's going to be amazing. I'm trying to think of a name for it. Right now, I've for Crescent Rose or Scattering Rose. I was leaning toward the last one but then Yang told me "scat" has a different meaning online. Then instead of telling me what that was, she told me to look it up.

DON'T LOOK IT UP!

I am scarred for life.

Anyway, if you have any cool name ideas then let me know. Yang wanted me to call it Scythey McSniperface, so she's lost name suggestion privileges.

Your friend,

Ruby

XOX

P.s. please ignore the lipstick kiss mark on the envelope. Yang thinks she is funny with pranks and no one has the heart to tell her otherwise.

.

A village nearby lay in ruins, its gate smashed open. Wooden buildings with straw thatch stood untouched and abandoned, windows broken and doors caved in. Bodies dotted the dirt street – not many, not as many as would have been expected. Maybe ten or twenty at most. Jaune tugged his cloak hood down as he stepped onto the road and stood over the body of a middle-aged man. His face had been slashed clean off and he'd died clutching an axe. The Nevermore perched on Jaune's shoulder cawed angrily, its beady red eyes flashing as it clicked its beak at the air.

"This wasn't my doing," he said, unsure who he was justifying that to. The village had been like this when he found it, though anyone who arrived to see a cloaked and cowled figure in black with a Grimm on his arm was sure to assume he was responsible. "This must be the Branwen clan's doing. We're close."

The Nevermore didn't reply nor understand him. It wasn't a conduit to Salem or even protection for him, being small and insignificant. In truth, its only purpose was to serve as proof of who he claimed to be. Salem had made it and told it to follow him so that the bandit leader wouldn't have reason to doubt him when he said who he served.

"But, if it comes to a fight, you're useless. Aren't you?"

"Kawww!"

"I thought so."

A heavy sigh rocked him, and then the wings buffeting his head did the same. The thing was perched with one claw on his shoulder and the other grasping his bicep. His aura prevented its talon puncturing skin, but it still wasn't a pleasant feeling. Stepping past the dead man, Jaune walked to the ruined gates and out, and quickly found the tracks leading away. The bandits had ransacked the village and taken everything they could, often dragging sacks of valuables behind them. It wasn't difficult to track that as grass had been worn away by so much traffic, leaving a road of disturbed mud and churned up earth.

The camp itself wasn't far. The tribe had evidently come, ransacked, and then set up camp nearby. No reason not to when they had to transport valuables and prisoners out the village. Smoke from campfires rose up into the night sky. They were loud; bandits sang and laughed, while prisoners kept in wooden cages lining one side of the camp wailed and begged for mercy. Young women were kept apart and separate, and bandits crowded those cages, reaching through the bars to stroke them while the women cowered in fear.

"And I thought Cinder and I were supposed to be the evil ones," Jaune said, approaching the camp with his hood drawn up over his head once more.

The sentries were in good moods and didn't notice him until he was almost upon them, at which point he had to clear his throat to get through to them at all. The two, a man and woman, lurched to their feet and turned weapons on him.

"I have come to speak with your leader, Raven Branwen," he said.

"Yeah? And who should we tell her has come-a-knocking, eh?"

"Tell her an emissary has come from Salem. She will understand the message."

He hoped.

"Sure thing, kid. But how about we get you all nice and snug in a cage first, eh?" said the woman, drawing a laugh from her friend. "You've got nerve coming to us like this but we won't turn down a little extra merchandise."

Jaune tensed. He really doubted he could face off against a whole camp of people like this, so he defaulted on his usual option when out of ideas – do whatever Cinder would do and trust that his sister knew best.

"That would be an unwise decision," he said, sneering down on the two approaching bandits. He slid a hand back, flapping his black cloak open so they could see the hilt of his weapon. "I would rather speak to Raven peacefully, but I shall cut my way through you to her if I must." He reached up with his spare hand to tickle the Nevermore's chin. "Perhaps my pet would enjoy feasting on your eyes."

The Nevermore, which had been still with its eyes closed, suddenly roused, expanding its wings behind Jaune's head and screeching horribly. Its bright red eyes and bone plated head, now revealed in full, caused the bandits to stumble back. Either of them could kill a single Nevermore, but that wasn't the issue.

It was the fact they'd never seen someone with a tamed Grimm before.

It wouldn't spook them for long, so he had to capitalise on it. "Take me to Raven!" he demanded. "Lest I grow impatient and take myself there instead."

The sentries exchanged nervous glances.

Cinder's way always did work best.

/-/

Mercury and Emerald stood back-to-back, surrounded by a tight ring of faunus terrorists who hadn't taken well to Cinder making an "example" of the sentry who dared to challenge their progress. Weapons bristled. The hairs on Mercury's arms did as well, goosebumps prickling across his skin.

"I really think," he said, not for the first time, "that Jaune would have had a better approach here."

"Shut up," Emerald hissed.

"I mean, the man only asked who we were and Cinder just cut him down."

"Shut up."

"Zero patience. Jaune would have—"

"Shut up before you get us both killed!"

"You think the White Fang can?"

It wasn't the White Fang that Emerald was afraid of. Cinder made no show of listening but she was sure the woman was. Had Cinder been a faunus, her ears would have perked up the moment her brother's name was whispered. She had a sixth sense for it.

And here I am more worried about upsetting Cinder than the armed terrorists surrounding us. What a crazy world. The worst part is Mercury is right. Jaune would have been a lot better for a diplomatic mission like this.

But apparently, he was off on his own task – one he was to do alone. Had the option been there, she and Mercury would have fought like Grimm to be the ones chosen to go with him. Mercury because he was obsessed with the boy, and Emerald because she was terrified of Cinder. Their team was really going to be a mess come Haven. Worse yet, they'd be stuck sharing a single dorm. Emerald wasn't looking forward to it.

"Enough!" a man shouted. He pushed his way to the front of the mass, a red sword in his hand. "You want to speak to the one in charge. You speak to me!"

Cinder smiled. "Good."

No, thought Emerald. Don't do that. You'll convince her she should always do it like this.

Damn it all. Why couldn't she have been sent with the sane sibling?

/-/

The sane sibling cast his arms out wide like a wizard from the storybooks, with the Nevermore circling his head his familiar in the form of a dark, evil crow. He stood with arms raised, putting on a show for the many armed and dangerous bandits watching. The Nevermore screeched (more unhappy at him for disturbing its perch than in a threat) and settled back on his shoulder when he let his hands fall. Several bandits that had come to challenge the sentries and him backed away, including he short-haired girl who had come to stop him.

"Raven is busy with someone," she stammered. "She said no one should disturb her."

The urge to be polite warred with the need to not lose the initiative. That, in turn, was buoyed by the knowledge that being made to wait would mean giving these people time to regain their nerves. Worse yet, it'd mean having to watch them toy with their prisoners. Jaune's heart was already pounding in his chest. He was helpless to really stop them doing whatever they wanted to these poor people. He lacked the strength to fix this. If Cinder were here, she'd say it's another example of why we need power. If I were strong enough, if I had power, I could force Raven to release them.

He could scatter these violent fools who thought their strength gave them the power to put down the weak and grind them into the dirt. Maybe they would stop laughing once they were the ones in cages.

Though the hood covered the upper half of his face, Jaune's furious scowl had the nervous bandits moving away. They didn't know what to make of him, and they were a superstitious lot. A robed man with Grimm following his every command read like something out a storybook. A tale of spirits and old wizards and shapeshifters. Things any civilised person would dismiss as nonsense but which roughly educated (or even completely uneducated) nomads living out of tents took much more seriously.

"I'll talk to Raven again!" the girl yelped, dashing up the wooden staircase onto the raised platform, then ducking into the tent.

Huh. Well, that worked. Whatever it was he'd one. Jaune tugged his hood down further over his eyes so they wouldn't see his nervous expression. It was already dark out, meaning that much of his face was covered in shadow. Bandits sitting by their tents nearby made old signs to ward off evil toward him. Scarred and muscular mothers pulled children away, turning their gazes from the small but disproportionately threatening figure stood in the middle of the camp.

It wasn't long before the short-haired woman returned. "Raven will see you, sir. I mean… uh. Whatever you are."

"Emissary."

"Yes. That." Her throat bobbed. "An emissary of…?"

"The Grimm."

Her mouth opened as if to ask how that was possible, then closed as she decided against it. Jaune stepped up past her and to the burgundy tent, swept an arm under the doorway and then slid through. The Nevermore ducked its head and flap came down behind him. Inside, dust-torches balanced on crates and barrels illuminated a spacious living quarter, while a selection of rugs hung from wooden poles created a partition at the back its inhabitant to sleep behind in relative privacy.

The tent was placed atop a wooden platform; it was both to give it a commanding position over the others but also so Raven would not have to walk or sit in the mud. The wooden beams beneath them had stolen carpets and rugs cast across them in a mismatched pattern. A new rug would simply start where the last ended, creating an uneven but comfortable floor. To the back were crates of belongings – most of them probably not hers originally – but before that stood the woman herself.

Raven Branwen reminded him of Cinder at first glance and could even have passed for her mother. Black hair and pale skin, with sharp red eyes and a vaguely threatening stance that hinted at someone used to having a sword on their hip. The weapon currently stood propped up by the table, but it was within easy reach. Her clothing didn't help the Cinder comparisons, being mostly red and black, but there was a wild and untamed edge to her that Cinder didn't possess. And he didn't mean that in a good way. Raven was wild and untamed in the same way a cat raised feral was.

But she wasn't alone.

There was a man there – one Jaune recognised from briefings provided to Cinder by Watts. A list of names and faces known to be associated with Ozpin, headmaster of Beacon – or Ozma, immortal, as Salem called him. Qrow Branwen. Professional huntsman. One of the best – if not the best – in Vale. That's not good. Not good at all.

"Who is this?" Qrow asked, shooting Jaune a rightfully suspicious look.

"A question I'd like the answer to as well," Raven said. "You appear to have panicked my people, stranger. Care to introduce yourself?"

Not really. If Cinder and I are going to infiltrate Beacon, I can't let Qrow Branwen see my face or learn my name. This is a disaster.

"I am Emissary," he said, lowering his voice a few notes for good measure. "That is my name, a title, given to me by the one you know as Salem—"

A sword left its scabbard and appeared before Jaune's chin before he could so much as blink. It was so fast there was no time to react, no time to even think. Jaune simply trailed off and looked down at the weapon Qrow Branwen held to him. Its edge looked sharp enough to cut his head right off. Up close, he realised it might not actually be a sword per se, but some mechashift weapon of some sort. The specifics really didn't matter when he was half-an-inch from breathing steel.

"Put your weapon away, brother." Raven mocked. "You're not scaring anyone. He didn't even flinch."

Only because it had come so sudden that he hadn't had the chance! Jaune was grateful for the cloak hiding the way his throat bobbed as the weapon was withdrawn. His heart was racing! Qrow looked murderously angry, and that was a bad sign indeed. Cinder had trained him as best she could, but Jaune suspected his only chance against this man would be if he agreed to fight with both arms tied behind his back. Even then, he might just kick Jaune to death. The man was a huntsman, while Jaune was yet to even enter an academy. He liked to think he was good for his age, but that wouldn't mean a thing to someone who had more experience in direct combat than Jaune had time on the planet.

"You're brave to test me like this," Qrow hissed.

Brave? As if I knew you'd be here.

"Enough posturing," Raven spat. "What is your message, emissary?"

Jaune slowly turned to her, exposing his flank to Qrow not to be dismissive but because he knew no amount of guard would protect him anyway. If he was doomed either way, he might as well try and not look threatening. Apparently, he failed, because Qrow gritted his teeth and glared.

"I was sent by Salem to meet with the one who once served Ozma but turned her back on him. You have become a person of interest to her."

"Raven, don't!" Qrow spat. "Don't you dare."

"Shut up, Qrow. This isn't your place anymore." Raven silenced him, but didn't look particularly happy to have Salem's interest either. Jaune caught the way she moved a hand over the table, as if in thought, but he also didn't miss how it strayed close to her weapon. "I've caught her interest, have I? Care to tell me in what way?"

"Curiosity. Intrigue. Salem is… curious about one who has left her enemy's employ."

Jaune made a show of placing his hands together in front of him, palm to palm, empty and without a weapon. The Nevermore beadily glaring at everyone didn't do a great job of helping in that, but he could at least show he wasn't a threat.

"I was dispatched here to speak with you, and to carry with me three offers."

"Offers?"

"Proposals, if you will. Salem would ask your stance in the current conflict—"

"I have no stance in it. I don't care for it."

"That is one of the options." His answer appeared to be the right one, for she stilled, then withdrew her hand just before it reached her sword. "Salem would know if you are a potential ally, an enemy, or someone who would be happy to remain uninvolved. She offers riches to one and threats to the other."

"And to me staying out of it?"

Jaune bowed his head. "Nothing. Neither good nor bad."

"That's it?" Raven asked, eyebrows rising. "I stay out and she leaves me alone? What's the catch? I refuse to believe so generous an offer."

Generous…? Generous was giving someone something for free. This was, at best, Salem choosing to ignore her. And the deck was very much stacked in favour of Ozpin anyway when it came to having allies. Salem had four underlings – five including Jaune. Ozpin had almost that many kingdoms on his side. It shouldn't exactly be a shocker that she would be happy to make a deal that ended up with someone not being an enemy. But Raven suspected more. Fear, perhaps? There had to be a reason she'd run away from Ozpin in the first place.

Fear was a compelling reason, or so Cinder would often say. Those who were strong lorded it over the weak, but there were some in the middle – those who had some strength but not enough. The bravest of those would seek more, but the weak ones would hide away, cower, and try to keep to what power they had. Big fish in a small pond. Cinder was a shark ever seeking larger ponds and more growth. While Raven was a catfish in a pond, content to remain the strongest and biggest in her little feudal kingdom and pretend the rest of the world didn't exist.

So, that's why you abandoned Ozpin. You were afraid to go the whole way. His eyes narrowed under his hood. Which means you're scared of me, or what I represent. You're afraid of letting Qrow harm me because Salem might blame you.

And she was afraid of any "deal" that didn't make sense in her head. To Raven, Salem agreeing to leave her alone was too good to be true. It came across generous because Raven was a coward who feared she would be stomped out, when the truth was Salem had far too much on her plate to really care about her.

"I said that would do for Salem," Jaune said. "But I did not say that would be enough for me. There is a price to pay for her… mercy. Though you need not be the one to pay it, and the price is unlikely to mean much to one such as you."

"Raven, no!" Qrow repeated. "Any price will be too great. Don't listen to this monster!"

"Monster…?" Jaune couldn't help himself. He looked to Qrow. "You refer to me?"

"Who else would I?" the man snapped. "You serve Salem – someone who wants to kill everyone on Remnant. Innocent lives—"

"Like the ones trapped in cages outside. What does Ozpin plan to do with them?"

Qrow leaned back, scowling. "Plan? We've nothing to do with them. Raven didn't take them on our orders."

"Yet here they lay, trapped and alone and afraid. That wasn't my question anyway. I was asking what Ozpin plans to do about them. How does he plan to rescue them? Has he sent you to barter for freedom on their behalf?"

The huntsman looked flabbergasted.

Raven threw back her head and laughed. "Him? Ha! Ozpin doesn't give a damn about these people. Never has and never will. Too small to matter. It's only ever the big picture for him. My brother is a hypocrite as well if that's what you're asking. He'll sniff and complain and call me evil, but he won't ever do anything. These lot will be ransomed off. That's their fate."

"And if their families do not have the money? Or if you have captured their families and stolen all their money? What if there is no one to ask a ransom from?"

"Then they'll pay for their freedom another way," she said, shrugging. "Nothing in life comes freely. That's the nature of things. You have to pay or fight for what you want. Freedom included. They didn't fight hard enough, and now they're here."

Jaune looked to Qrow. "And Ozpin stands for this, does he?"

"No! But we can't… There's nothing we can— why am I even justifying myself to you?"

Good question. Guilt, probably. Guilt that all but confirmed Ozpin and Qrow wouldn't be doing anything about these people. Maybe they had too many other things on their plate. Maybe these people just weren't important enough. Bigger picture and all that. Raven had been the one to accuse him of it, and it looked to be accurate.

"I see." Jaune let out a quiet breath. "They are to be abandoned, then. Inconsequential. Forgotten."

The huntsman snarled and rounded on his heel, storming past his sister and out the tent. Jaune let out a nervous breath as he departed. For a moment, he'd honestly thought the man might attack – at which point it would have been certain death for him.

"He'll be running back to Ozpin right now," Raven said. "He always was a teacher's pet. So, our deal. Salem will leave me alone as long as I leave her and hers alone. Is that right? It still sounds too good to me. You mentioned a price. What is it? What do I have to do to make her back off?"

"A simple sacrifice, Miss Branwen. One I don't think you'll have any issue with."

/-/

Salem raised her head when Arthur entered her throne room. He came with one of his many inventions, one that she recognised as being used to allow a signal from their tower to reach out and touch the CCT. Someone wanted to make a report, then. She normally preferred to use Seers for that, but they weren't always useful – especially not if one of her agents was in a city or some other place where Grimm would be difficult to find.

"Cinder?" she enquired.

"Her brother, my lady."

"Ah, the boy. A prompt response. Let us see how he has done."

Salem wasn't quite sure what to make of him. Arthur and Tyrian saw him as a weakness in Cinder, and they weren't wrong to, but Salem knew personally how the loss of a loved one could drive a woman to vengeance. If Ozpin or one of his killed the boy, Cinder would become a wild asset determined to bring them down.

But would that be useful to her?

Vengeance was difficult to control. It was self-destructive, which was useful if she wanted a blunt instrument but not much use for a scalpel. If Cinder only cared for killing Ozpin, she'd take the first chance to do it, throwing away their carefully made plans to satisfy her own needs. It was much easier to use the boy and consider him and Cinder a package deal than it was to alienate one and watch the other follow.

Arthur set down the device and activated it when she gave him the signal. Unlike one of those scrolls he'd shown her before, this worked more akin to a camera – projecting a holographic display for her and transmitting the feed of what it saw to the boy's scroll. He would see her sitting on her throne. Hence why Arthur waited for her to signal him. It wouldn't do for her to not be ready.

"Jaune Fall," she greeted. "I trust you have good news for me."

"Yes, ma'am." He didn't call her queen or goddess, but she didn't mind it. Any term of respect would do, so long as he knew his place. "I met with Raven Branwen and agreed with her a deal to remain apart from our and Ozpin – I mean Ozma's – plans."

Salem waved the issue away. He might be Ozma to her, but she accepted most people would know him by the fake names he chose. It mattered little which people used. "She could not be swayed to our side, then?"

"No. And I do not think she would have been worth having."

Salem leaned forward. "Oh?"

"It would seem that fear and cowardice were her only reasons for abandoning Ozma. She is afraid. A coward. Raven Branwen puts on a strong air and bosses her people around, and innocents around her, but it's all just to wrap herself in a lie that she's untouchable. At the first sign of real trouble, she would buckle and run. I feel that, if she's done it once with Ozpin, she'd only do it again with you."

Arthur scoffed and Salem frowned. "How very disappointing. Good that no time was wasted on her, then. You have done well, Fall. There's been no word from your sister yet but we expected that to take more time. The White Fang is a larger organisation than a simple bandit camp."

"Ma'am… there is… something else…"

Oh? How curious. She wasn't used to people talking back, but so long as he wasn't expressing doubts, she would humour him. "Go on."

"Raven would not have been a worthy addition to your cause, but would you perhaps be interested in others…?"

"Hmm. Are you showing initiative, young man?"

"I apologise if I have overstepped."

"That's yet to be decided. I will never turn down useful allies. Why? Did you find someone among her band of cowards who has the spine to stand with me?"

"In a… um… In a manner of speaking. They are very eager to repay you, ma'am. If I can pan the camera so you can see…?"

Salem waved for him to do so.

What she was not prepared for was the camera to turn and encompass a crowd of some one to two hundred people, in various states of injury and dismay. Women clutched children, and men clutched to their families. They were muddy, they were downtrodden, and they were weak.

Desperate and disparate.

Arthur choked a little.

Salem just about managed to keep her jaw from dropping. "Fall," she asked, voice quiet. "Who are these people?"

"Um. Civilians abandoned by the kingdoms, ma'am. Left to rot by Ozpin and Vale and Mistral, who were too unimportant to be rescued by him even though Qrow Branwen was there in the camp. There were to be ransomed. Or used, in the case of the women, by the bandits in Raven's camp. They are desperate, bereft of a home, and they would gladly serve the one who rescued them."

What use would they even be? Families, civilians, weak people – and yet, even as she thought it, she had her answer. Survivors of a fallen village heading to every kingdom as refugees. A small army of spies who would forever be grateful to her for saving them from damnation. That was how Ozpin often did it, wasn't it? He saved people, put them in his debt, and then manipulated them until the ends of their days. And those people were watching her. Listening. Nervous and afraid, but also so helpless that they would look to a monster like her with hope. Because, in the end, their fellow humans had proven to be worse monsters.

Ozma so liked to keep humanity wrapped tightly around his finger that she often considered it a victory to find four or five people she could trust. If even a tenth of these people honoured their debt to her, it would be more than she'd had in decades.

"Emissary," she commanded.

"Yes ma'am?"

"See my people fed and cared for." Her voice carried, and she watched the eyes light up in wonder and awe. Desperation gave way to hope, and some pointed at her image with clear adoration. Yes. This would do nicely. "Arthur will provide you the funds necessary, and Tyrian and Hazel shall come to take them off your hands and protect them until we can find permanent and safe homes for them." And indoctrinate them. Tyrian would love having a flock eager to learn more about their new goddess. "You have done well, my emissary. I am most pleased. See now to these people."

"I will. Thank you, ma'am."

"THANK YOU!" the crowd chorused. "Salem! Saviour! Thank you—"

The call ended, cutting off the cheers in her name.

"My lady…" Arthur began. "Those people will be useless—"

Salem cut him off. "Arthur. How soon could you prepare falsified identities for all these people? And how well do you believe you could run a ring of spies and informants spread across all four kingdoms?"

His eyes widened. A slow smile appeared on his face. He straightened, sensing not only her plan but the potential for him to benefit from it. He always did like to see himself as important, and pandering to that would keep him working hard.

"I think I could have that done quickly if I got on it. Perhaps some to Argus as well, and to other important settlements?"

"Make it so, Arthur. I shall trust you to decide the best locations for them. Keep families together. Keep them happy. Grateful."

"I will make sure they have reason to bless your name."

Spies of all ages as well, serving not only this generation but future ones. If Tyrian did a good job impressing on them her kindness, they would pass such lessons on to their children. In time she might have loyal huntsmen and huntresses, business owners, politicians and more.

The boy had been sent to secure her a non-aggression pact with Ozpin's wayward minion.

He had delivered to her an army.

Jaune: "I will do the right thing!"

Salem: "This boy is an evil mastermind!"

Next Chapter: 18th February

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