It was Raven and yet it was not. She was different. With Sun it was easy to see the differences ten years had made on him, but the changes were much subtler with the woman stood before him. She looked younger in a way that was hard to define, with a smoother complexion and eyes that spoke of less cynicism and anger, if that was even possible with someone like her. Her relationship with Yang had always been a complicated one and never really sorted itself out, which meant he didn't know all that much about her personality other than what he'd seen for a very short amount of time. He knew what she was like when the chips were down, but not like this. Unlike anyone else he might have run into and at least had some idea of what they might say or do, Raven was a mystery.
And yet here she was, standing before him in the past and watching him like he was a particularly amusing breed of insect. She'd be what, twenty-eight or so? She had to be the same age as Qrow, and he'd been thirty-eight when Beacon fell. He remembered Ruby calling him forty and the man's rather defensive reaction.
Regardless of age, this was a Raven who had already abandoned Team STRQ and her daughter. She was a bandit, which meant the camp he was in belonged to the Branwen Tribe. A tribe which didn't have the best record of how it treat civilians or those unfortunate enough to fall into their grasp.
What a time to be without his weapon.
She had hers of course, and as his eyes roved down her form he realised she had another strapped to her other waist. Crocea Mors, back in its sheathe once more. Jaune was so shocked at the development that rather than consider the situation he was in, he blurted out the first thing to come to mind.
"You have my sword."
It wasn't his best moment...
"Is that thanks I hear for saving your life?" Raven asked, more amused than offended. She chuckled under her breath and allowed her hand to stroke the hilt of his weapon. "I enjoyed watching you knock Vernal around, though she's nothing but a child. I'd ask if you thought you could do the same to one of my men, but I saw the results of your battle with the Nucklelavee myself." Her eyes watched his and she smiled in what could only be called a predatory manner. "You're strong."
The word would have meant so little from or to anyone else, but given by Raven it meant everything. Her obsession with being strong was something he'd never understood, even at the end. He could appreciate the basic theory of it, especially considering she was the Spring Maiden and had Salem after her, but it had always been something deeper with Raven, something more than just common sense.
Either way, was he strong? It was hard to say. He was stronger than possibly anyone else his age, but even now Raven had six or seven years on him and she'd never been a pushover.
"I'm not strong enough," he said, erring on the side of caution. He neither needed nor wanted Raven's attention, and getting away from here as fast as possible was the best course of action. Of course, he'd need his sword for that. "If I was strong, I wouldn't have needed you to pick me up at the end. I heard you helped the survivors to safety. Is that true?"
"You ask if it's true, rather than if they're safe. Such lack of faith."
"You're the leader of a tribe of bandits."
Raven smiled. "Ah, so you do know who I am. I thought I saw recognition in your eyes for a moment. Interesting, since I'm sure I've never seen you before. How do you know me, huntsman?"
Jaune cursed. He really needed to stop reacting to things so obviously. He'd gotten away with it with Sun because he was an impressionable child and Ren and Nora were in a dangerous situation that didn't leave much time for detail, but Raven was neither and if she could pick up the cues, then someone like Ozpin or Ironwood certainly would.
"I know of you, but I've never had the pleasure of meeting you directly," he clarified.
"Hm, I see." Her smile didn't falter. In fact, it seemed to grow wider. She didn't believe him. "Those civilians are fine," she said, suddenly changing the subject. "We wouldn't normally interfere in something like that, but one of the survivors was distant family to a member of the tribe. She knew our frequencies and when the call to Mistral yielded no help, contacted us instead."
Annie…? There was no telling for sure but it seemed possible. As far as he knew, no one had survived the first time and Raven's tribe hadn't come to Kuroyuri, otherwise the Nucklelavee would have surely been killed. Had his saving Annie provided the means for those survivors to contact Raven and her people? Well, at least that explained why they'd come by.
Then again, Ren and Nora just might not have known if there were any other survivors. For all he knew, this might have happened in the original timeline and he just never found out about it.
"And you took the survivors to safety?"
Raven nodded.
"That seems unusually kind of you…"
"The weak die, the strong live. They managed to survive where few others could and I respect that. I respect it enough to let them go free. Whether they live or die now is entirely in their hands, as it should be."
It was about as callous an answer as he'd expected, yet also much kinder. He wondered at first if that was a fact of the past that Raven was somehow less cruel, but he realised a moment later that this was just her twisted philosophy at work once more. If they were strong, they would survive. If not, she couldn't care less.
"What happened to Kuroyuri?" he asked.
"Destroyed. We helped ourselves to some of what remained, but otherwise left the ruins to be reclaimed by Mistral or the wilderness, whichever wants it most. There were a few other survivors, though not many."
"You looted the town!?"
"The dead have no use for trinkets." She said it simply, like it should have been obvious. "We helped those we could and allowed them to take their own belongings."
Jaune bit down on his instinctive anger. It really shouldn't have bothered him, not with Raven having already gone above and beyond for the survivors already. It wasn't like those saved would have complained, so he had no right to. "Thank you," he said through gritted teeth. "Thank you for responding in time to save them - and me. However, I'm neither dead nor dying, so I'd appreciate it if I could have my weapon returned to me."
"I'm sure you would. One of the survivors said you didn't live at Kuroyuri but introduced yourself as a wandering huntsman." Raven ignored the issue of his sword entirely, waving one hand before her. "Since you had nowhere to be taken, I graciously allowed you to make use of a tent with us, and even provided you with healing."
And all of those things were so uncharacteristically unlike her that having them listed out set him on edge. He had a feeling he knew where she was going even before she spoke.
"I believe all of that deserves some payment. Your sword will do."
"All those things don't count as `gracious` if you demand payment right after."
"Do they not? A shame. I guess that makes me something of a bandit."
Some of the men around the campfire laughed at the quip, despite it being not that much better than what Yang might have come up with. Bad puns came from Raven instead of Taiyang, whoever could have guessed? She wasn't interested in his sword, however. Raven had hers and she'd grown up in Beacon, which meant she'd been around far superior weapons for years now. His, while a good weapon, was frankly pedestrian compared to the likes of Crescent Rose, Myrtenaster and any other huntsman weapon.
She didn't want his weapon, but rather something else. As Raven made to leave, his hand shot out and grasped her elbow. The crowd gasped. He could tell from their silence that this was notsomething they were used to.
"Thank you for saving my life," Jaune said, realising that some gratitude was necessary whatever he thought about her or her parenting skills. "I'll repay you if I can. But I'm afraid that sword isn't something I can part with. I'm going to have to ask for it back."
Her head turned, just enough to flash him the red of a single eye. "Is that so?"
Any other man might have backed down. He felt afraid too, but hardened himself. Crocea Mors was all he had left of his last life and Pyrrha. It was foolish in the extreme, but he felt like he'd be willing to die before he let someone take it from him. "It is. Please give me my sword back."
The fact that he resisted seemed to please her. She stood a little taller, and dare he say it but her eyes slowly started to take him in more fully. A slow smirk began to spread across her face. "And if I say no?" she asked.
"Then I'll take it back."
Those watching gasped again and some reached for weapons, though none dared draw in front of Raven.
"There are some who might say making demands of me takes courage. Others would say it is stupidity. Which is it for you?"
"Neither. It's necessity."
"Are you challenging me?" she asked.
Not willingly.
"If I must."
Raven turned fully, forcing him to release her arm. "I was right," she said, more to herself than to him. "You are nothing like the ones I've seen before. This sword…" She hoisted it on her hip with one hand. She noticed how he flinched, but thankfully didn't do anything to it. Her grip suggested respect, if only to the weapon and not him. "It's a good blade. It's seen use, and not just petty sparring or weak Grimm. Its design is nothing special and there is less to it than any other huntsman weapon I've ever seen, and yet despite all of that it feels warm to the touch. It is well-used, very well-used. It has slain Grimm and human alike. It is a deadly weapon."
"It is," he admitted, for he'd done all of those things in time. Some of them he felt bad about, but regrets were for those with options. He and the rest had been so lacking in those.
"But a weapon is nothing more than a tool. Anyone can pick it up. It is the wielder that makes the difference. I caught the end of your conversation with Vernal. You said someone died for this."
"Yes, my best friend."
"Was she a fighter?"
"She was a huntress."
"How did she die?"
Jaune's hands clenched into fists. "She was killed by an opponent. She died because I wasn't strong enough to watch her back, and she felt she had to send me away to protect me. She died because I was weak."
Whatever Raven felt of that, her face gave nothing away. "You are not weak now," she said.
"I grew stronger in her memory."
"Hm." She inspected the sword for a moment, testing it. With a nod, she let it fall at her side. "It's a good sword. Very well, I'll give you a chance to reclaim it. But to do that, you'll need to fight me." Raven paused to let the awed whispers around them fade. "How does that sound?"
"Fine," he snapped back, and the whispers returned. "Will you let me fight with my sword, or am I to do this bare handed?"
"Neither, and you're not doing it now either. You are injured and running on fumes. If I wanted to fight a cripple, I'd break one of my men. We'll have our fight in a week or two, once you've recovered enough to actually pose a challenge." She turned away once more. "Until then, I'll keep this safe. Roland, see him fed. He is allowed free reign of the camp and is here as my guest." Her eyes scanned over the rest. "No one is to challenge that lest they wish to face me."
"As you command, Raven," the man from before, the one sparring with Vernal, replied. Once the woman was gone, he sighed and walked up to Jaune. "I've no idea if you've balls of brass or brass where your brain should be, boy. Do you have any idea who that was?"
"Raven Branwen, leader of the Branwen Tribe."
"Aye…" Roland looked surprised at the knowledge but forged on. "If you're going into this thinking she'll be a pushover because she's a woman…"
"I know just how powerful she is."
"And yet you're still willing to do this?"
Jaune turned to the man, finally taking his eyes off the retreating figure of Raven Branwen, or more specifically the sword swaying on her hip. "I need my weapon back. I'll do whatever it takes to get it, even if that means fighting against someone like her."
"You're ballsy, I'll give you that."
"He's a fucking idiot," Vernal snapped. "Talking to Raven like that! Who do you think you are!? I'm going to enjoy watching her cut you a few feet shorter. Won't be a very long fight, but I'll take what I can get."
Roland's fist caught Vernal's jaw with a sickening crack. The suddenness of it surprised even him, but it certainly caught Vernal off guard, knocking her back with a cry and a spray of blood. The girl landed hard and wiped some from her lips, glaring at the man.
"If you've got time to talk shit, you've got time to train. I didn't unlock your aura so you could be blindsided like that. Bring your aura to the fore to block the attack. Don't just stand there like an idiot."
"Y-You surprised me!" Vernal babbled past the blood that pooled in her mouth. She spat some out and glared at them both.
"I punched you in the sodding face! How much more obvious can I be!?" The man held out his hand, requesting the wooden sword returned. Jaune hadn't realised he still had it but gave it over after a second's thought. "Take a breather, boy. I'll get to you in a second. First, I need to whip this foul-mouthed little snot into shape. That or kill her trying."
What followed was a crash course – literally, in Vernal's case – of what life was like in the Branwen Tribe. Roland pushed the girl hard, far harder than anyone in Beacon would have. The man was a career soldier, or had been one, that much was obvious from the way he moved, the way he held himself and even from how he adjusted his sword, only moving as much as he had to and conserving his energy.
Vernal was much more raw and untamed, striking with a ferocity that was almost frightening to see in a child. She made wide and aggressive swings, all the while trying to use her natural agility to get past Roland's guard and land a killing blow. Whenever that failed, and it failed every time, he would punish her not with stern words or a lesson, but with a strike of the wooden blade. He was never gentle about it.
The crowd around the campfire dispersed after a while, some staying to watch the entertainment while most found other things to do. There was no real organisation to it, but there was some discipline, for while they laughed, jeered and shouted insults at one another, no one dared to cause any trouble. The sounds of training from further afield spoke of more in Vernal's situation, but there were no brawls or fights among the bandits.
Jaune watched as the training session came to a close when Vernal fell for what felt like the thirtieth time. She tried to rise but couldn't make it, and instead curled into a ball in submission. Roland placed a foot on her hip and Jaune almost rose to stop him. Luckily, the bandit simply rolled the girl over.
"You're spent already? Tch. I guess this is as far as you go. Get up, wash the stink off your body and then report to the kitchens. You can help cook food and then help yourself to some – but only then. If you take some ahead I'll know, and I'll make what happened here seem like mercy. Got it?"
"I-I got it, you bastard…" Her insults were cut off as he rolled her further, dashing her face in the soil. The girl spluttered and coughed, sending both Roland and Jaune a deathly glare. She limped away with one arm held to her side.
"You're hard on her," Jaune noted.
"That a statement or a complaint?" Roland asked, moving over to sit down opposite him.
"A little bit of both."
"Tch. The brat wants to get strong and I'll make her strong. What I am is efficient. Take it or leave it." The man paused to take a swig of water. "What did you think of her?"
"Vernal?"
Roland nodded. "Hm."
"She has potential."
"To hell with potential, boy. I asked what you think. Everyone has potential and it doesn't mean a damn thing when a Grimm or angry huntsman is staring down the end of your sword. Leave that potential nonsense to the weaklings in the Kingdoms. Maybe it'll help coddle a wounded ego. Out here, that kind of crap will get you killed."
Jaune sighed, aware of just how many times Pyrrha had told him he had potential. He had, and he knew he'd realised it now but try as he might he couldn't help but wish he'd had a little less potential and a little more actual skill when she needed him most.
"Fine. She's too emotional when she fights and far too aggressive. That means she exerts all her energy early, which is fine if she can take down her opponent in a blistering attack, but is just going to leave her exhausted against someone better or as good as she is. She's also had no plan I could see against you and just kept wailing away. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"It's a start," Roland said. "She's shit, then."
"She's a child!"
"Like that matters. I'll up her training in the morning but that's nothing for you to worry about. Come on, I'll give you a tour of the camp and the rules here. Wouldn't want you pissing someone off and getting yourself killed before the boss has had the chance to have her way with you." The cruel chuckle from not only him but those nearby made it clear what he meant by the final comment.
Well, if they expected him to roll over and cry when he fought against Raven, they'd be sorely disappointed. Even if it took a week or more to fully recover, he'd still face her down. Even if the past could be changed without his sword, he wouldn't leave it here.
/-/
The wind buffeted her as she cautiously stepped out of the Bullhead, caught halfway by a pair of hands that assisted her down to the floor. "I'm okay," she breathed, though even to her ears her voice sounded weak.
Ozpin didn't remove his hands from her, but rather adjusted them, helping to support her so she could stand as she left the Bullhead. "You are not okay, Summer. You are injured. It is not weakness to accept a hand in help every now and then. I'm sure I taught you that."
Summer grumbled under her breath but allowed herself to lean on him. Ozpin had taught them many things, the importance of co-operation among them, but pride always played its part and it was sometimes hard to be an adult and be seen to lean on someone. Seeing Beacon on the other hand, was a wonderful experience.
"It's so good to see you in one piece," Ozpin said. "When we lost contact I feared the worst, and then to receive that call from Shade." He shook his head. "You almost gave me a heart attack, my dear."
"Did you-"
"I told your family the moment I received the call," he assured, and Summer relaxed. "As I understand it, your husband has chosen not to fully inform your children, other than to assure them you're safe and well. I don't think he wants to broach the topic of mortality with them just yet."
"More like he's waiting for me to come home so we can double-team it," she laughed. "Tai can be surprisingly flimsy like that. He's such a baby."
Ozpin chuckled. "I'm reliably told being a father is not as simple as it sounds."
"Yeah, and Ruby and Yang are a handful, bless them." Summer allowed herself to be eased down onto a bed in the infirmary. Although mostly healed, she still wasn't fully on her feet yet. The doctors in Shade had deemed her fit for travel however, and Ozpin had convinced them more familiar surroundings would help her heal.
It didn't mean she had to like it, though. Hospitals sucked.
"You'll have all the time in the world to broach such heavy topics when you return to Patch. For now, be thankful that Taiyang doesn't have to cover it with the added news of your passing."
The prospect was too cruel to imagine. Summer's eyes watered.
"I've upset you, forgive me," Ozpin said, bringing a paper towel for her to wipe her eyes on. "I didn't mean ill, but I suppose you must be sensitive after what happened. Worry not Summer, you are safe now and you'll be back with your daughters before you know it."
"Tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, tearfully.
"Not until you're healed." Ozpin's face was firm. "I've seen that expression before, Miss Rose. It did not work on me when you were a student and it will not work now."
The tears vanished in an instant. "Boo…"
"I don't want to dwell much on what happened to you," he said, taking a seat beside her bed. "But obviously I need to ask how you were injured and what you remember. If you're unwilling to talk about it now, I'll understand."
Summer shook her head. She had been a few days back but the healers in Vacuo had been understanding and kind. Now, with her initial fear dulled somewhat, she felt ready to tell the full story. Ozpin listened as she did, highlighting how she'd responded to a distress signal only to be ambushed by both people and Grimm.
Noticeably, the people had been ignored by the Grimm, almost as though they were working together. "All I can remember is that one of them was heavy set with a black beard and tanned skin, while the other was much narrower with pale skin and black hair. I managed to score a blow here." She indicated her chest. "It was deep and should have put him down, but I'm not sure if he survived or not. I don't remember anymore. I… I guess they left me for dead."
"Most likely to secure help for the one you wounded. You're lucky the Grimm were dispatched first." Ozpin sighed heavily and removed his glasses, setting them down on the bedside table. Although appearing ageless, the wrinkles about his eyes hinted at his stress. "It appears that Salem has begun to move once more. I'd hoped she would not discover you."
"It's not your fault, sir."
"Thank you, Summer, but I believe the fault lies more with me than you realise. I won't send you out again to Vacuo. The risk is too great and-" Ozpin paused, having noticed the sudden look on her face. "What is wrong?"
Summer's stomach rolled and flopped and she couldn't quite meet his gaze. She didn't know how to say what she felt and a part of her thought she was a coward for even thinking it. Still, for her children's sake she forced herself on. "A-Actually, sir. I… I was thinking that I wanted to take a break. Only for a while. I'm not saying I'll stop fighting or ignore all of this like Ray, but-" A finger pressed over her lips.
"You have always had a habit of babbling when you're nervous, Summer."
"M'sorry," she mumbled.
"It is perfectly understandable that you might want to take a reprieve from such dangerous missions, especially after what happened. I would be more concerned if you did not. I will be happy to cut your duties and allow you more time with your family. They should always come first."
Her eyes watered. "Thank you…"
"Should you change your mind, you can feel free to come back. I can give you work close to home and simply, just to ease you back into the swing of things, but don't fret about that for now. Focus on getting better." Ozpin leaned back in his seat, the stress from before melting away as he smiled down at her. "I really am glad you're alive, and not just because it saves me having to deliver terrible news to your family. I suppose we owe this tribe of yours some thanks."
A memory flashed back to her mind. Blue eyes, weary and hurt, yet filled with new hope. A face as haggard, if not more, than Ozpin's would ever be. "Actually, I'm not sure if it was someone from the tribe who saved me. I think I'd have died if it was just them…"
"Oh?"
"There was a man," she explained. "His skin tone and his face were different to theirs. I… I can't remember a lot, but I recall waking up. I was in so much pain and I thought I was still under attack. He was… he was healing me, or he said he was." Her brow creased. "He must have since I survived, but the way he did it. It was like… it was like he was making me heal myself. I could feel his aura."
"A Semblance?" Ozpin guessed.
"It must have been. I can't think of anything else. Either way, he saved my life. I… I don't think I'd still be here if it wasn't for him."
"Hm, interesting." Ozpin expressed no doubt when it came to her story, such was the faith he had in her. "Well, I would very much like to meet this man and thank him."
Summer sighed. "You and me both…" There was so much she wanted to say to him and it seemed almost too cruel that he'd not been there when she woke. The tribe too, but him more than they. Neither of them had stayed to hear her say thank you. Neither of them knew just how much they'd given her.
"I don't think I'll ever forget his face," she said, laughing a little awkwardly. "I thought he was some kind of divine being. It was the gold hair and the white robes," she said, gesturing to herself as her cheeks heated up. What would Tai say about that? Well, he'd probably want to hug the guy, but still! She was a married woman!
Another thought also occurred to her. "Do you think you'd be able to find him?"
"That's quite the task you pose me without as much as a name to go by." Ozpin held firm in the face of her begging look, though he did sigh. "I will have a look at any databases and see what I can find. Such a Semblance would be rare and highly prized, I'm sure. Healing is an incredible gift. In fact, if we could find him I would certainly appreciate the chance to talk to him. Such an ability would be incredibly useful."
Summer chose not to argue, mostly because the idea of a healer on hand if she, Tai or Qrow got hurt was great, but also because she wanted to find the guy too.
"I make no promises, but I shall see what I can do," Ozpin said, slowly standing. "I'll also see about bringing a scroll patched through to the CCT in after you've had a rest so that you can speak with your family."
"Really!?"
"After you have had a rest," he stressed. "Not before and no matter how much you beg. You have just travelled across half of Remnant while injured. You need rest."
"But-"
"And it is two in the morning," he said. "On a weekday, no less. Your girls have a day of school ahead of them."
Ugh, he was right, and she was the one who kept telling them off whenever they tried to stay up late or watch TV with their father. What kind of message would she be sending if she told them off one moment, then broke the rules the next? Argh, Tai would never let her live it down. Summer pouted, crossing her arms and glaring at the headmaster as if it were somehow his fault.
Ozpin, in turn, simply chuckled. "It won't be a long night. The sooner you get some sleep, the sooner morning will come."
"I don't need you to give me the same line I give Ruby," Summer grumbled, feeling very much the five-year-old right now and not liking it. That was the kind of tone she used with Ruby when convincing her she wouldn't grow big and strong unless she drunk lots of milk. "Hey, is Qrow around?"
"No, and if he was I would also ban him from interfering with you when you need rest."
"Aw. Where is he?"
"Qrow is on a very special mission for me. It is something only he can achieve." Ozpin finally moved away from the bed, pausing at the light switch to slowly turn it off. "Goodnight, Summer. It's good to have you back."
She grinned and flashed her silver eyes in the dark.
"It's good to be back."
/-/
"I-I think you've had enough, sir."
"What?" the muscled man belched and rose to his feet, though perhaps staggered might have been a more accurate way to put it. His body swayed and for a moment it seemed he might sit back down again, perhaps horizontally on the floor, but he caught himself on the bar and pushed on. "You got any idea who I am? I'm not done until I say I'm done."
"S-Sir…"
"I am a proud member of the Branwen Tribe. I am-"
"You are drunk," a calm voice spoke from behind, freezing the bandit. "And the lady says you've had enough." Jaune wrinkled his nose at the smell. "I'm inclined to agree."
The bandit, who was easily six and a half feet tall, didn't turn to face him. He didn't need to since he recognised the voice, as most had come to in the two weeks Jaune had spent with the tribe. At first his presence there had been a source of amusement and entertainment, a lamb to the slaughter of Raven's twisted humour or idle curiosity. They'd put up with him, but he'd been a weak and pitiful thing to be mocked.
It hadn't taken long for one of them to push their luck, and for Jaune to show them just how wrong they were on that notion. Strong as they may have been, Raven's tribe were not huntsmen. There was a reason she and Qrow had been sent to Beacon to learn how to deal with huntsmen, after all. They had their auras unlocked, but they stood somewhere between Roman's thugs and a fresh academy student in terms of skill.
News of his strength had spread fast, and the fact he didn't have a weapon meant remarkably little when it came to the difference between he, a veteran of the campaign against Salem, and they, drunken and undisciplined bandits who preyed on civilians.
"I don't want no trouble," the burly man said, backing down. "Maybe the woman is right. Sorry," he added, this time to the women behind the counter. One of the earlier ones had balked at his demand to apologise to a civilian.
No one had since. Jaune nodded and watched as the man took his fellows out, closing the door softly behind them and causing not a single bit of mess. The others in the tavern, bandits and normal folk both, quickly returned to their own conversations.
He didn't stay for any thanks from the woman, paying for his own drink and leaving a moment later, stepping out into the warm midday sun. Two whole weeks with the tribe, and though he'd have balked at the idea initially – and still did – he had to admit that he could feel his body getting stronger. Fighting their way through to Salem, battling her, coming back, being swept away in an ocean, trekking across a desert and then fighting the Nucklelavee. He hadn't realised just how hard he was pushing himself or just how battered and bruised his body was.
Raven had, of course. And with the ironic concern she gave to what might prove an unsatisfying fight, assured that he had ample time to rest and grow strong. He felt like a pig being fatted for the slaughter, but he couldn't help but admit that he'd needed it. The rest, that was. Less so the slaughter.
The actual prospect of facing Raven wasn't a particularly endearing one. There was no telling whether she had the Spring Maiden's powers yet, but he had a feeling it wouldn't matter either way. Qrow had been ridiculously strong, even at the end, and he'd often said Raven was the stronger.
His path took him out of the small village they'd stopped at, which he didn't remember the name of, and to the bandit camp parked on its outskirts. It was odd to consider a bandit camp next to a civilian town without any violence – other than the occasional brawl he'd quickly stepped into – but then again, bandits couldn't live their whole lives in the wilderness. They needed somewhere to come to sell, buy or just spend their free time. This village seemed to be it, and it appeared there was an understanding of some kind, for Raven's tribe had never attacked it.
Many of the bandits nodded as he walked by, acknowledging him, or more likely his strength, but no longer offering the jeers and taunts they had a fortnight before. One or two he knew by name, Roland among them, but most were just faces. It was hard to grow close to people you knew as bandits and criminals, especially given what he knew of the future. Of course, not everyone saw it the same way.
"Oi, fuck-face!"
"Haven't we had this conversation before?" Jaune asked, not really needing to turn to know Vernal was behind him. "I'm fairly sure Raven isn't impressed with your cussing. Neither am I for the record. Also, my name is Jaune, not `fuck-face`."
Vernal's pout was in full force when he finally turned to face her. The girl had been greatly offended by what she saw as him humiliating her in front of Raven, but had for some reason decided that this was all the more reason to hound him for further spars. He'd hoped Raven finding out would put a stop to it, but the damnable woman had simply smirked and said the best sought to grow stronger by challenging those greater than they. She'd then complimented Vernal's drive, which had pretty much sealed his doom.
"Fight me!" Vernal cried, holding her wooden sword out towards his chest.
"Didn't I beat you just this morning?"
"N-No…"
"You tried to ambush me the moment I stepped out of my tent," he recalled, unimpressed. The girl flinched and looked down to her feet. The worst part was she probably didn't even feel bad for having used such a duplicitous tactic so much as the fact it hadn't worked.
"I'll do better next time."
"You're missing the point here."
"No I'm not, now fight me!"
He'd never been good with children. Not in a sociopathic or anti-social manner, but just in the way that he hadn't been around many and really didn't know how to calm them down. Vernal had to be the worst example, too. She was defiant and rebellious for the sake of it.
"I have a meeting with Raven," he said instead, opting to lie through his teeth. "She'd be angry if I was late."
"You do?" That got a reaction, as it often did. "Hngh." She scowled. "Fine, but you have to fight me later. I'm going to kick your ass and prove I'm stronger than you."
Maybe in ten years' time she would be stronger than the him of this time, who was probably busy being a seven-year-old boy about now. Sadly, he doubted Vernal would ever grow strong enough to challenge him. He didn't intend to let his skills stagnate in the coming years.
While the excuse got him out of trouble, it didn't free him entirely and Vernal hovered behind him, clearly hoping to get a glimpse of Raven. With no means of escaping and no desire for another sparring session, Jaune sighed and made his way to the centre of the camp.
In the two weeks he'd spent here, it was inevitable that he and Raven would interact. It was impossible not to really, particularly with him getting involved in breaking up a few fights before they could harm the locals. Raven took discipline seriously, though not in a murderous manner. She normally forced those guilty to fight one another until they both collapsed, but if she was feeling vindictive she might fight them herself and really make them regret it.
He wasn't sure if she approved of him disciplining her people or not, but she never stepped in and the one time someone had complained, she'd simply told them to `deal with it` directly. Aka, fight him. They hadn't complained since.
That encounter led to the two of them speaking more often, which wasn't something he'd had planned. The camp was small and no one dared talk to him other than Vernal and Roland, leaving him to either spar until the end of the day or chat with Raven. The latter was by far the easier choice.
The bigger surprise was that Raven humoured him. In fact, she seemed to appreciate it and occasionally hunted him down instead of it being the other way around. He wasn't sure if she was intrigued, curious or merely bored, but with little else to do and his sword on the line, he'd become a somewhat familiar face at the bandit leader's tent.
So it was now, that she looked up from a scroll she was reading a message and chuckled. "Using me as an excuse to escape Vernal again, are we?"
"She's a handful." Vernal had stopped some distance away, too shy to approach.
"Hmph." Raven brushed some of her black hair over one shoulder and smiled cockily at him. It was odd to see, but she really did remind him of Yang sometimes, not just in the looks department, but the way she acted. She was still cruel and callous, but in the two weeks he'd spent here he'd also seen her laugh, tease and fight with her men.
Perhaps it was just that the times were easier now. In ten years things would be so much worse. It was possible the Raven we'd met had been forged by those, or at least stressed by them. Now, ten years younger, she was no less callous and yet somehow more light-hearted.
"If you really want rid of her you should beat her down," she said. "Make her regret challenging you so much that she avoids you."
"I've already beaten her a few times. She's stubborn."
"I meant that you should go further. Break her arm or leg, or maybe drive her until she can no longer move and then go further. Leave her weeping for mercy."
"I know what you meant," he said, frowning at her. "And I'm not doing that. It's cruel and she's only a child, no matter what she says."
Raven shrugged. "Then put up with her constant pestering, I care not. I merely gave you an option which would solve your problem. It is your choice on whether you act on it."
"Can't you say something to her?"
"I could, but why would I? You can either show your strength and disabuse her of approaching you, or harden yourself and put up with her." Both methods involved being strong, of course. Nothing less could be expected from her. "How is your health?"
"Good. I'm getting stronger."
Raven smiled. "Perfect. A little longer and you and I shall have the chance to cross blades. I look forward to it."
The fight was something she often brought up, though oddly enough more in a teasing way than any real lust for battle. Oh she was excited, but there seemed to be something more to it. If he didn't know better he'd have said this was all an attempt to recruit him into the tribe. Maybe it was; she probably didn't come across someone capable of killing a Nucklelavee every day.
But he, in the Branwen Tribe? Not a chance. Even if they'd saved his life, his morals wouldn't stretch far enough to let him become a bandit.
Of course, it was also possible Raven was just bored. As a tribe of bandits, all they did was wander around stealing and occasionally killing. While that might have been an exciting life for some, it didn't have much in the way of direction or meaning. Being Beacon trained and thus much stronger than her own people, there was probably no one in the tribe that could last against her, let alone pose a challenge. For someone as proud as she, that must have been a source of constant frustration. You grew strong by challenging yourself, after all. What possible training could she endure against people so much weaker than she?
"I'm surprised you're patient enough to let me heal at all," Jaune said. "You're always going on about strength and how important it is."
"Strength is important, but there is no fault in being weak due for a short time." Raven said, frowning. "A baby is weak, as is one brought low by injury. You admitted yourself that you were once weak, and yet now you are stronger than any man in my tribe. The weak can grow strong, but while they are weak I will despise them. That said, temporary weakness due to factors outside of your control is hardly something worth disparaging."
Simple logic for a simple woman - or perhaps a complicated one wanting to see the world in black and white. "I'm not sure strength is the be all and end all, though."
"You certainly like to cling to your flawed logic," she said, for what felt like the tenth time. This was a constant discussion between them. "You could only step in at Kuroyuri because you were strong. Your friend fell because you were not strong. I was able to save you because I was strong enough to feel no fear for any Grimm that dared stand in my path. In this world, a world where the Grimm rule, strength is everything. It grants you the freedom to do what you want."
"There are some who would say it's how you use that strength. What's the point in being strong if you hide away and refuse to use it?"
"Discussions on how to use strength still rely on you having it."
Jaune's words trailed off. She'd caught him there. "Maybe…"
"Strength is like wealth," she said, stretching her muscles in the warm air. It was an oddly vulnerable motion, even if she was anything but. Maybe it was just that it was a very human thing to do and she'd never seemed it before. Then again, he'd only ever seen her in live or die situations before this. "There are some who hoard wealth and others who spend it, and while I'll agree wealth not spent is meaningless, that doesn't change the fact that those with more can have the greatest impact, whether good or bad. The richest man on Remnant could ruin a Kingdom, but he could also save it. It is not so different to be strong. The weak cannot change their own destiny, while the strong can decide it for many."
Despite his best efforts he couldn't entirely bring himself to disagree with her. She was still a terrible person, being both a bandit and a mother who had abandoned her family, but then he wasn't being asked to condone her actions, just her philosophy. And if he'd been stronger, so many people might have survived the final battle. Well, he had plenty of time to grow stronger. A lot could happen in ten years. It was just a little galling to realise that Raven Branwen was the one sharing such wisdom with him, and that it was the same wisdom everyone had found so aggravating in the future.
"What do you intend to use all that strength for?" he asked. "If strength is like wealth then like you said, it's pointless if you don't spend it. Where do you mean to cash it all in?"
Her eyes pierced into his and she frowned. "That is a personal question."
Rather than take the hint and back away, Jaune shrugged and held his ground. It was what she tended to prefer and it wasn't like he had anything better to do. He was just counting the days until he could get his sword back and leave. "If you don't want to answer it, don't. But I'll still ask. There are plenty of people who could use skill like yours."
"Use?" She snorted and looked off to the west, eyes narrowed. "There was once someone who sought to use my strength, and I gave it to him willingly. I trusted him with my power, my skill and my loyalty." Her eyes narrowed, as though recalling some distant time. At some unbidden memory her lips peeled back into a snarl. "No longer. I answer to no one." She didn't meet his eyes, too engrossed in staring at something he couldn't see. "What are your plans once you leave here?" she suddenly asked.
"I'm not leaving until I get my sword back."
"So you say, so you say…" She glanced at him, not quite smiling but somewhat amused. It felt like she appreciated the distraction, or at least the change of subject. "Still, humour me. You're huntsman trained but I've never heard of someone like you. You claim you were trained in the deserts of Vacuo, but everything about your appearance and dialect suggests otherwise."
She knew he was lying, even as he knew that she knew, but he'd already said it and couldn't take it back. To do so would be to admit defeat, and it wasn't like he had any other story he could realistically give her.
"So, what do you intend to do from here?"
"I need to get my huntsman license." There wasn't much point in hiding it from her and no real reason to do so. "I'll be headed to Vale first to pick up something and then travelling to Atlas to be tested for it."
"Atlas? Why not be tested here in Mistral?"
His face twisted. "I… have unresolved issues with the headmaster here."
"Oh? And what might those be?"
"We don't see eye to eye on some things," he said. Lionheart was a coward and a monster and someone he'd probably have to deal with in time. Not now, however. He had no evidence and no means to depose the man, and even if he did Salem would likely just influence his replacement.
"Interesting, and I suppose my next question would be why you don't choose to be tested at Beacon, seeing as how you already intend to visit Vale. Or is it that you feel the same way about Beacon's headmaster as you do Haven's?"
Jaune's silence was telling.
So was Raven's delighted grin.
"Hm, now that's interesting. Does it have something to do with this?" Her hand touched his, tracing the back of his left hand before he could stop her. The sigil from Salem was still burned into it and he tore his hand away, hiding it. It as good as confirmed his guilt. "I see."
"I don't think you do, but you're free to believe what you want." He'd realised after only a few days that the best approach to maintaining his lies was to simply refuse to broach the subject. Whatever story she came up with, it would be more believable to her than the truth, and she'd likely feel more connected to it if she was the one to decide.
Perhaps he was a spy, a criminal or some huntsman on the run. It really didn't matter and it wasn't like Raven Branwen was going to turn him in to the authorities or Ozpin.
"I'll be sure to get the full story out of you in time," she said. "I don't much like secrets."
He shrugged. "You're free to try."
He had no idea how much he'd come to regret that comment.
/-/
It was less than four days later when things changed. He started to wake up feeling fresh rather than tired, and his muscles stopped aching at last. Refreshed and healthy, he saw the world in a different way, somehow less muted. Whatever he had to say about Raven stealing his sword, he couldn't deny how much the two and a half weeks had done for him.
He'd kept up his daily visits and chats with Raven, there not being much else to do to entertain himself and most of the people in the tribe being violent, dull or drunk. Sometimes they talked about the Kingdoms, politics or her tribe. But other times they talked about lighter things like entertainment, fighting styles or even places they'd been and sights they'd seen. Roland was at least a friendly face, but since he trained Vernal daily, that meant approaching him was a bad idea.
Of course, Vernal still found and forced him into at least one spar a day.
Most of the time, he spent with Raven however, and it came as something of a surprise to realise just how normal she was, which was kind of stupid in hindsight. She couldn't perpetually exist in a state of fighting against Salem, and at this point might not have even been aware of her. Plus, she was still human, terrible mother or not. As such, like any other human being, Raven had to live life day by day and deal with normal things like laundry, cooking and chatting with the person who wouldn't leave her alone because she'd stolen his sword.
In a way, he felt she enjoyed it too. They weren't close, not at all, but he was `new` and in a tribe where she saw the same people day in, day out, that probably counted for something. More than that, he wasn't afraid of her and thus could hold his own when they disagreed on something. There were times when the discussions got so heated she reached for her weapon, but he pointed it out each time and she would relent, frustrated – and even a little surprised – that someone had pushed her so far.
He had a feeling no one in the tribe did that, whether out of fear or inability.
Raven delighted in it, if only because it broke up the mediocrity of life.
And then, with the coming of the fourth dawn, that all changed. Jaune noticed it upon waking, that there was a buzz in the camp, with people whispering in low voices and many congregating toward the centre where Raven's tent lay. It was almost as though they'd formed a circle around it to watch a fight. That had happened once or twice when she sparred with someone, though it never brought so large a crowd.
Jaune pushed through it, ignoring complaints as he forced his way to the centre and silenced any who tried to stop him with a glare. His reputation among the tribe had grown enough that none challenged him twice. Those who hadn't seen or experienced him first hand knew of him from others, or had watched in awe and a little jealousy at the easy way he interacted with their fearsome leader. As Jaune approached the centre, he heard voices, one of which was Raven's.
"You come here and make demands of me, traitor? You have a lot of nerve. I've half a mind to cut your tongue from your mouth."
"Wouldn't be the first time you've threatened that and I'm still talking," the other taunted. The voice was familiar, almost. It was gruff and yet not, lacking a certain edge. "Besides, I'm not here to fight. I'm here to talk some sense into you and convince you to come back. He wants to talk to you."
"Oh? And here I was under the impression he had moved on. I doubt my reappearance would have the desired effect."
"I'm talking about Ozpin," Qrow said, for it was Qrow – younger and leaner, and actually not sporting the beard he'd become so well-known for. In fact, the streaks of grey in his hair were absent too, leaving it all black. Jaune found himself staring at the man, too shocked for words.
Raven's sword cleared its sheathe in an instant and tickled the underside of Qrow's chin. It took her a second to realise it wasn't her sword at all but rather Crocea Mors. She'd drawn it without thinking. She recovered quickly however, adjusting her weight for the heavier weapon.
"Choose your next words carefully, Qrow. I do not answer to that man anymore. I am no one's slave."
"Heh, you don't answer to anyone as far as you can tell, but that doesn't mean you're not a slave, just that you're a slave to your own fear. Whatever happened to being the strongest?"
The sword moved closer. Raven's tone was arctic. "I. Fear. Nothing. I am the strongest."
"Oh? Then what is there to fear in a quick meeting with Ozpin? He just wants to talk."
Jaune scoffed. The day Ozpin `just wanted to talk` was the day he stopped treating everyone like chess pieces, which meant it wouldn't happen for at least another thirteen years. Unfortunately, he'd chosen to express his disbelief in a moment of tense silence, not only from the crowd but also Raven and Qrow. Their heads swivelled in his direction.
"Another mindless killer?" Qrow asked.
He didn't like the accusation and answered before Raven could. "I'm more of a guest."
Qrow looked him up and down, and since the cat was out of the bag Jaune did the same in return. It was like looking at an incredibly skilled imitation artist. Everything that made Qrow himself was there, from the hair to the outfit and weapon, and yet there were subtle differences; differences that would have made him accuse the imitation of laziness over if he didn't know it was simply a matter of time.
The beard was an obvious one, as was the grey hair, but the other was that Qrow looked remarkably sober. In fact, though he had a hip flask on his belt, it was tightly strapped down, impossible to drink from at a moment's notice and very un-Qrow.
Similarly, the posture wasn't quite there. The Qrow he knew was a man forcing himself to relax. He was tense, like a spring ready to snap, but he'd force his body to slouch, either to make people lower their guards or just to appear more relaxed than he actually was. He was cautious and always prepared.
This Qrow was not. He slouched, but in a way that was perfectly natural and one of the biggest surprises was the cocky grin he wore, one that matched Raven's to a tee. If there was any doubt the two were related, that ended it. Still, his Qrow could be cocky at times, but he was never arrogant. This one was obviously looking down on him.
"A guest, huh?" he asked, shooting Raven a look. "You always did like them with blonde hair and blue eyes. I'm surprised how fast you've moved on, but maybe I shouldn't be. It's just like you to not care."
Raven's eyes flashed. Her hand tensed on the hilt of his weapon, and her shoulders vibrated for a second. The words had affected her, even if she didn't respond to them. Rather than admit that to Qrow however, she smirked and walked up to stand behind Jaune, draping her arms over his shoulders.
"He has things others can't provide. You wouldn't understand."
Jaune stiffened, though not – as one might have thought – from having a voluptuous woman pressing against his back. That was new, novel and nice, but it was the meaning of what was being said that caused him such internal strife. They assumed he had no idea what they were talking about, but he did. Qrow was suggesting he would come between Raven and Taiyang, that he was somehow responsible.
It was just a family spat, a desperate attempt from each to hurt the other, but the accusation still lowered Jaune's opinion of Young Qrow. Yang's family wasn't a joking matter. Not with Summer dead and Raven like this.
"In that case, I think I'd rather not understand." Qrow's eyes flickered to his. "Word of advice, friend. Don't get involved with her. She only uses people. People's feelings and thoughts are meaningless to someone like her."
Raven tensed; he could feel it through his back. However good her poker face, she couldn't hide the tiny changes reactions she had – not when she was flush against him. Jaune wasn't sure if it was some kind of camaraderie with her or not, some level of gratitude for saving him or just that Qrow was pushing all the wrong buttons. Either way, he couldn't keep his mouth shut.
"Unlike Ozpin, right? He'd never treat people like disposable pawns."
It was the wrong thing to say he realised, even as he said it. Anger towards Ozpin, or at Qrow's hypocrisy or just the state of affairs, but whatever the case he'd let his temper slip away from him, just like he had with Neptune all those years ago at the Beacon dance. Even so, the sarcasm in his voice, thicker than tar, could not be missed. And of course, they didn't miss it at all. Raven's hands tightened on his chest, clutching through the fabric without her really realising it. He also caught a breath of warm air expelled against his neck and a sudden tenseness that radiated through his back. He registered shock and surprise, along with a slow, silent chuckle once she regained control of herself.
From Qrow, he earned instant and unwavering suspicion. The man's eyes narrowed, one hand reached back to his weapon and he regarded Jaune with the sudden attention of someone who'd just noticed a venomous snake. And why not? Most people shouldn't have known much about Ozpin, let alone that Qrow worked for him as some kind of personal agent. With just a few words, he'd burned his bridges with the man who had helped train him in the past.
Me and my big mouth. Vernal must be rubbing off on me…
"I've decided," Raven said from behind him. Her interruption stole Qrow's attention, though Jaune still had a feeling this meeting would be reported back to Ozpin. That wasn't a good thing. "I've made my decision, Qrow. If Ozpin wants to speak with me, I shall speak. I will come to Beacon, listen to him and even allow him to convince me of his intentions."
Qrow faltered, surprised. To be fair, Jaune was, too. "You'll come?" Qrow asked. "That sounds too good to be true. I'm sensing a condition here…"
"But…" Raven said, smiling widely, leaning on Jaune's back with her chin resting on his shoulder. She sounded unusually excited. "I will only do that if you can prove your strength here and now. Show me that time working under his sway has not made you weak."
"Fight you?" Qrow asked. "Tch, if I have to."
"Not I, brother."
Raven placed both hands on Jaune's back and pushed him forwards.
"Fight my champion."