The forge was quiet this time around.
No ringing metal or hammer sparks present. The roar of the enchanted fire belching from the runic furnace was also absent, which gave Jaune an odd feeling of emptiness. The only time Jaune had been here was when Jade was working on her smithing, after all.
The heavy stone doors magically shut tight behind him, their locking glyphs glowing faintly in the lowlight, and for once, the air that wasn't thick with heat, was instead thick with anticipation. Jade hadn't lit the forge today by intention.
Jaune's boots thudded softly against the stone floor as he stepped in, dressed neatly in a clean, cream-colored tunic and dark pants. No signs of grime or sweat clung to him now. He looked… respectable, at least.
He needed to.
Because Violet Arc was already there.
She sat elegantly at one of the metal-topped side tables, her gait as impeccable as always, legs crossed, with a porcelain teacup in one hand, and a delicate pastry in the other. It was faintly comical, how graceful she looked against the rough, soot-stained backdrop of the smithy.
Her long, cream-blonde hair was tied into a single intricately thick braid that fell over her shoulder like a golden rope, and her jade-colored eyes lifted to him with cool scrutiny the moment he entered.
[Enchanter], floated above her in glowing words.
"Jaune," she greeted with a nod. Polite and neutral. As expected of her.
He gave a small wave, clearing his throat. "Hey. Uh… thanks for coming."
"She didn't want to," Jade said from behind her own workbench, leaning against it with arms folded. "I bribed her with tea and almond tarts. You're welcome."
Violet arched a brow. "It was not bribery. It was simply a strategic persuasion."
"Yeah, yeah, keep telling yourself that, your ladyship."
"Some of us maintain standards," Violet sniffed, dabbing at the corner of her mouth with a silk handkerchief. "Unlike certain dirty-goblins."
Jade smirked, flexing an arm. "This dirty-goblin could crush a grimm skull with her biceps. Remind me again what your last enchantment project was? Bedazzling a tiara?"
"It was a mana-conductive tiara that suppressed mind-altering effects, thank you very much. It was personally auctioned to the Queen, dear sister."
"Fancy hat."
"A tool of precise magical craftsmanship."
Jaune sat down quietly on the stool Jade had pulled up for him earlier, amused despite the tension knotted in his stomach. It was always like this between them—flinty banter and passive-aggressive quips. They were twins, but only in birth. In every other way, they were opposites.
According to the memories that trickled from the original Jaune's life, Violet was the archetype of nobility: calm, graceful, educated, and just a bit cold. An "ice beauty," some might say. The kind of girl who rarely raised her voice but always had the last word. She would have been very popular back on Earth with the male community.
But Jaune also remembered little things. How she'd personally bring him hot tea when he was sick as a boy. How she'd once enchanted a retainer's bootlaces to tie themselves into knots because they made fun of his sword form. She never admitted to it, of course. But he'd seen her smirk the next day when the man fell flat on his face.
She wasn't unkind.
Just… difficult to read.
And very, very by-the-book. Which is why he was nervous.
"So," Violet said slowly, setting down her teacup. Her gaze shifted to Jade. "You said this meeting was important. Regarding Jaune?"
Jade nodded. "Yeah. And I wanted the doors locked before you got told."
Violet's eyes narrowed slightly. "That sounds incredibly suspicious. Finally trying to finish me off once and for all, are we? Quite illegal you know?"
She didn't seem particularly bothered, however.
Jade shrugged. "Please, if I wanted to off you, I wouldn't do it in such a roundabout way and technically, everything I do is illegal. Remember when I forged a shock-blade for that dockside gang? I'm basically a war criminal."
"You are the worst example of nobility."
"And you're the reason formal dinners feel like funerals."
"I host events of refinement and—"
Jaune cleared his throat. Loudly. Both women turned to him. He took a breath, then exhaled slowly. "I need your help, Violet. With something important."
Her eyes met his, cool and unreadable. "I assumed as much. Given the secrecy. Go on."
"I'm leaving Ansel."
A beat of silence.
"…Leaving?" Her voice was soft. Flat.
"I'm sneaking out in two weeks. Using Verona's caravan as cover. Once I reach Seabranch, I'll catch an airship to Vale… and enroll at Beacon."
Violet said nothing. She just stared. And the weight of her silence felt like a judgment.
Jaune pushed on.
"I've already spoken to Jade. She's helping me craft armor from the Black Mithril that mom and dad were able to procure for her, and I plan to steal the sword from the vault before I go. Quietly. No one will know until I'm already gone. Hopefully at least."
The stillness in the room was absolute. And then Violet sighed, folding her arms.
"Of course you are."
Jaune blinked. "What?"
Violet turned away, muttering to herself. "Why is it always me dealing with this madness? First Jade wants to forge flame-spewing axes that violate a dozen trade codes, and now you're staging a damned jailbreak…"
"You're not going to tell Mom and Dad?" Jaune asked, wary.
She turned back, her expression oddly soft. "No, Jaune. I won't. I suppose I always knew this day would come. You've been caged your entire life. It was only a matter of time before you started picking the lock."
"…Thank you," he said, voice quiet.
Violet rose from her seat and crossed the room, her steps precise even over the stone floor. She reached out and touched his cheek gently—just for a moment, just enough for warmth to flicker through the ice.
"You are the only one I would ever break the rules for," she said. "But only this once."
Jaune chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Noted."
Jade, who was watching from her seat, grinned. "Told you she had a soft spot."
"Shut up," Violet said, returning to her tea.
"You shut up."
"Make me."
Jaune smiled and something tight in his chest eased just a little. This was his family. Perhaps, for the first time since his transmigration, Jaune truly felt like they were his own.
The forge soon settled into a soft lull of warmth and flickering lamp-light.
Jade had leaned back against her bench, arms folded, chewing on a dried fruit stick with far too much smug satisfaction. Violet, meanwhile, sat with her legs still crossed, picking delicately at a second tart like it might offend her sensibilities if eaten too quickly.
"—I'm just saying," Jade said, with a pointed smirk, "for someone who talks like a noble encyclopedia, you snarfed down that almond tart like a starving street urchin."
Violet sniffed. "A lady's grace extends only so far, in the presence of superior baking. And I was being polite earlier, not restrained. There's a difference."
"Yeah? Is that why you licked the plate?"
"It was a small plate."
Jaune watched the two of them trade barbs like seasoned duelists, amused despite himself. For all their sniping, their bickering was quite comforting, a kind of familial cadence that made the looming tension in his chest ease, if only a little.
Violet finally turned her head and looked at him.
"So," she said, folding her hands in her lap. "You've told us how you plan to leave. But I'd like to know something a bit more important." Her eyes narrowed slightly, not unkindly—just appraising. "How do you plan to get into Beacon with your level?"
Jaune tensed a little. He'd been waiting for that question.
"Beacon requirements only allow those intakes that are at level ten or above, minimum." Violet continued. "The ones who will succeed will most likely be fifteen. Some students might even come in at twenty-five, if they've delayed enrollment for training. It's certainly an uphill battle for you."
"I know," Jaune admitted. "But I'm already making progress."
Jade snorted softly, but said nothing.
"I've been hunting Grimm outside the walls, in the forest—safely," he added quickly, seeing Violet's lips purse. "It's not a lot, but I've killed two Ursa and a Beowolf so far. I've reached level 8, now. With how things are going… I think I can hit 10 in under two weeks. 12, if I push myself harder and give up a bit of sleep."
Violet frowned. She didn't argue or scold him like how Jade did. She just watched him for a long, quiet moment before speaking again.
"Grimm aren't toys, Jaune."
"I know."
"Even the weak ones can kill. Especially if you let your guard drop."
"I won't, don't worry."
For a heartbeat, her lips tightened. Then she stood and walked toward him, until she reached his side. Her hand—cool, pale—reached out and wrapped gently around his muscular forearm.
She looked him in the eye.
"Be careful," she said. Her voice was quiet now, almost intimate. "I would have liked to come with you, if I could. But… Enchanters aren't built for combat. My stats are decent, sure, but I've never fought anything. Hell, I've never needed to. And I doubt trying to enchant a Beowolf would get me very far."
Jaune's throat tightened.
"I get it," he said.
She gave him a look then. Just a flicker of something warmer and closer. But not quite a smile.
"You'd better."
Jade rolled her eyes from across the room. "Gods, you two are dramatic."
Violet turned and fixed her with a stare. "Says the woman who cried after forging her first axe."
"I didn't cry. I sweated from my eyeballs."
"Oh yes. Very masculine."
"You know what's masculine? Jaune is. Finally becoming a true man!"
Jaune grinned.
Violet turned back to him, her expression settling again into her usual composed serenity.
"We know you have to do this, Jaune," she said. "That's why I'm helping. But you need to understand—this isn't just about levels. It's about your instincts, your presence and your growth."
She sighed heavily. "If we coddle you even a little, you'll die when it really counts."
"I'm not planning to die again," Jaune muttered, trying to reassure her.
Jade blinked. "Again?"
"Figure of speech!" he coughed hastily. "You know. Metaphorically."
"Right…" Jade narrowed her eyes but didn't press.
"Anyway," she continued, walking to the other worktable and shuffling through her notes, "I've already given him a solid longsword. Light and has a good balance. It has decent properties. Plus a storage pouch. If nothing else, that'll make sneaking out easier."
"Good," Violet said with a thoughtful nod. "I'll prepare some basic enchantments for your armor in advance. We'll finalize once the armor is done."
Jaune raised a hand, curious. "Actually… about that."
The sisters glanced at him.
"Why do you need to enchant it while she's forging?" he asked. "Can't you just do it after? Wouldn't that be easier?"
Jade was the one to answer, waving a grease-smeared finger.
"Nope. Not with Black Mithril," she said. "It's an incredibly rare alloy. Super reactive to magic—yeah—but only during its malleable phase. After it hardens, it becomes… stubborn. Like a wall that resists inscription. You can enchant it afterward, but the effects will be weak and short-lived. It won't hold long-term enchantments unless they're etched into the metal while it's still forming."
Violet nodded. "She's right. Black Mithril is a strange ore—almost has a will of its own. Its enchantment affinity is like a sponge when molten… and a mirror when cold. The only way to give it real power is to synchronize our work during the forging process."
Jaune looked between the two of them—one with her soot-stained fingers and strong arms, the other with clean hands and slender arms.
Sisters. Twins. Blacksmith and Enchanter. And they were going to make armor for him.
A strange weight settled in his chest. Not fear or doubt.
Gratitude.
"Thanks," he murmured.
"Don't thank us yet," Jade said with a crooked grin. "The process is a pain. We'll be cranky, and loud, and probably break a few things."
"And that's before the enchanting starts," Violet added with a sigh.
Jaune chuckled under his breath.
"Black Mithril's always been a temperamental metal, anyway," Jade muttered, rubbing her thumb against a smear on her wrist. "But it's worth the headache. Should level me up to thirty-three—or maybe even thirty-four—if I do a good enough job."
Jaune tilted his head. "Why's that, exactly? I mean—I know it's super rare, but what makes it special compared to, say, Orichalcum or Adamantite?"
Jade raised a brow, clearly pleased by the question. Violet sipped her tea in silence, though the faint tilt of her lips betrayed a shared enthusiasm. They loved to talk shop, even if only one of them would admit it.
"Well," Jade began, easing into her lecture tone, "every high-tier metal has its strengths. Orichalcum's the best for magic harmonization—it channels elemental energy like a dream. Adamantite's pure strength and durability—harder than anything else we know and an absolute nightmare to shape. But once it's forged? You could ram a lance into a paper-thin sheet and the lance would snap."
Violet added, "Mithril's a hybrid of the two. Not as focused in either quality, but still exceptional—durable, light and enchantable."
"Exactly," Jade nodded. "Mithril by itself is already great. Lightweight, flexible, and enchantment-friendly. But Black Mithril? That's something else."
Jaune leaned forward. "Because of the Grimm?"
Jade grinned. "Yup. It's always found near Grimm pools. The ore gets saturated with that essence. Some say it's corrupted—but that's not really true. It's more like… it remembers the darkness."
Violet's voice softened as she picked up the thread. "And when it's properly forged and enchanted, that memory turns against the Grimm it came from. The metal reacts violently to their essence—enhancing both physical and magical attacks."
Jaune blinked. "So it's like… anti-Grimm steel?"
"In a sense," Violet nodded. "And it still retains regular Mithril's traits—durability, magic harmonization, and enchantment receptivity."
"It's also lighter," Jade said, "which means I can build your armor for speed, not bulk. Bracers, greaves, maybe an maybe—just maybe—a reinforced chest rig. Enough to make a difference in a close fight. Especially once the enchantments are layered in. If we ever get our hands on another piece, we could even forge a full half-plate set to finish the look."
Jaune's gaze drifted to his own hands, imagining them wrapped in dark, shimmering metal—runed, and humming with Aura. It wouldn't be heavy or clunky.
But deadly. Refined. His.
"And it hurts humans too?" he asked after a pause.
Jade gave a wry shrug. "More than regular steel. Something about the way it harmonizes with hostile intent. The darkness it absorbed—it doesn't judge. Grimm or not, if something wants to kill you, Black Mithril wants to kill it back."
"That's… a little creepy."
"That's war metal, baby," Jade said, cracking her neck. "Creepy wins battles."
Violet smoothed the edge of her skirt. "Creepy or not, it's a gift. One you're lucky to have. In any other noble house, that ore would've gone straight to their heirloom vault or high-ranking retainer."
"Yeah," Jaune muttered. "Guess it's a good thing I'm stealing a sword made entirely of it."
That earned him twin looks.
"What?" he said.
Jade smirked. "Just proud of you, is all."
Violet's expression was unreadable—but a faint shimmer of warmth glimmered behind her jade eyes, like firelight through tinted glass.
"Well," she said, rising to her feet and brushing off her gloves, "if we're enchanting while she's forging, I need to draw up the sigils tonight."
"Tomorrow morning, we smelt," Jade added. "Jaune, get some sleep. You're no good to us with your eyes half-closed and your spine bent like a soggy sword."
"Right," he said, rising as well. "Thanks again. For everything."
"You can thank us when you survive Beacon," Violet replied, already conjuring ink and parchment from her storage ring.
Jade winked. "Or when you come back a hero."
"That'll be the day," Jaune muttered, but he was smiling as he turned to go.