Nine

The next two and a half weeks of my life were cold and wet, spent marching along the open high ways where the rain poured down on us all, and soaked me to the bone. After the first, we turned off into the woods, headed somewhat to the North and East. But all that turn did was take us off the paved road, with its post-stations and watchtowers, and onto dark, muddy, paths worn meanderingly into the expanse of Vale's forests. As they marched, the mounted soldiers shifted their formation, walking on the outsides of each rank rather than between them or in their own division. While thy did, the mounted knights told them stories, to distract from the oppressive dark around them.

The stories told that the great forest was made by the beasts of the land, to mire and oppose Man. But, when the Gods uplifted Man, they taught them how to farm the land and hunt forests, and hew wood and stone.

So now Man stood on equal footing with the beasts, and had all the potential to grow under the Brothers' care to become greater than them.

Another story told of the first meeting between men of Vale and the Faunus of Menagerie. According to it, the first Men to meet the beastly people had been explorers. Sailors of the sea, who happened upon one of the island chains around the small continent itself. By the tale, the sailors found a ship surrounded by Grimm who had ravaged it, and were eagerly waiting for it to finish sinking. The sailors wasted little time intervening, driving the Grimm down and then rescuing the stranded fishermen. Only for the duplicitous beasts to turn on the strangers, slaughter them, and use their ship to get home.

Even then, I quietly wondered the obvious…

Who had brought the story home, then, if the Faunus killed everyone? The answer to that question had a lot of implications.

But it was a nice thought, and kept me and my other new-blood brothers calm. Or at least distracted. Either way, the dark shadows cast by the flickering Dust-lights the mounted knights carried went unnoticed by most of them. Which was a matter of life or death - if the company were frightened, that could only have brought the Grimm down on us. Caught by surprise in the dark of the forest, unable to maneuver, we would have been doomed.

Instead…

Instead we reached our destination.

And some selfish part of me wonders even now which of these were worse paths to walk.

XxX----XxX----XxX

"Right!" Cardin snapped as his mace came around towards his head. Jaune turned, planted a foot the way the man had shown, and caught the heavy blow flat on his shield. Pain flared up his arm and he staggered back until his foot caught on a rock and he fell in a pile of clanging, shifting metal.

He groaned, for a second, and then sighed a quiet, "Damn it…"

"I'm bigger than you, Arc, you can't just catch my hits on the flat like that." Cardin grunted lowly, standing over him and casting Jaune in his shade. He held a hand out and Jaune took it, and let him drag him up. Turning, Cardin showed him his shield and mimed jerking it to the side, "Catch and turn, Arc. Toss the weight off before it settles. Momentum'll carry me right by you and open me up."

"Yeah…" It was easier said than done, and this wasn't the first time Cardin had told him. "I know, but every time I try I just… I don't know."

"It takes time, Arc." Cardin grunted, stooping to pick up the hammer Jaune had dropped when he fell and turning to offer the handle to him. Jaune took it and slipped it into his belt while the large man smirked, "You'll get it."

"Yeah." He shrugged, "Eventually."

At least, he hoped so…

"Form up!" They both jerked at the officer's bellow and the sound of a horn being blown, meant to call out to any men that had wandered further from camp. It took them less than ten minutes, now, for them all to find a place and prepare themselves. But this time, the officers didn't order the march.

Instead, officers on horses fell into place beside each column's flank and echoed the words of their leader at the front, "We have a short march today! Two hours to reach the village of Ansel! Our officer there has not ridden out to meet us, so be wary!"

"Ansel…"

"That's where you're from, isn't it?" Cardin asked from beside him. When he nodded, the man hummed and gave him a gentle shove. "Breathe easy. All is well, I am sure. The gods are good."

Jaune wanted to believe him, but he didn't say anything. Couldn't say anything, really.

He didn't want to call his friend a liar…

The day was sunny, though, and heralded an end to the short but no less tempestuous rainy season that always swept across Vale at each of the changing of the seasons. Once, years ago, he had asked a priest at the temple why that was, and he had said that each season ended with great rain because the gods shed tears for everyone who died during it, and he liked that. It was why, according to the priests, it was acceptable to cry in mourning.

Because who could say what the gods did was shameful?

As they neared Ansel, the land began to roll gently and the forest opened up, making way for the hillside meadows, fenced in pastures, and wide, open farmlands Jaune had grown up with. It made him happy to see it all. But…

It was so quiet.

Dairy cows wandered the pastures, as ever, but he didn't see the herd-dogs, and many of the heifers looked… Ill. Their udders and stomachs were swollen painfully, and some walked with limps. As if their own bodies were too heavy for their legs, somehow. And all of them were filthy and worn, wearily shuffling about and gnawing on short, muddy grass. Sheep they passed were in desperate need of shearing, and their wool was coated in filth. And pigs and chickens wandered the cow and sheep pastures freely, without so much as a hound to protect them.

Jaune watched a fox drag away one of the chickens with wide eyes…

"Where is everyone?"

"In the village, most likely." Dove said from his other side, "We were sent to answer a call for help with Grimm. If Ansel sent it, they may have withdrawn to the village proper for safety."

"Yeah…" They didn't have a militia, but if the farmers were smart, they'd have brought their hoes and pitchforks. And hopefully numbers meant that would protect them, at least long enough for them to come.

Or so he prayed…

As they passed through the farmlands, the hills began to roll more fiercely. They crested higher and dipped lower, into the familiar feel he had grown with. He was getting so very close to home, he could feel it in the air. He knew this land like the back of his hand. As they passed the Winchester farm, he returned, looking for the smoke that always trailed over the forest from the meat and cheese smokers the farm ran.

"It's clear…" He froze, and the man behind him ran into him, shoving him forward when the rank behind ran into him. Stunned, he staggered out of formation, slipped in the mud, and fell.

He heard one of the mounted knights bellow something at him, his name maybe, as he rode over to him. But Jaune ignored him and took off, sprinting along the line while other knights called after him. A horseman swung into his path and he slammed into the horse's flank and then slipped around it, heart racing, lungs burning, and head throbbing with every step.

The Winchester farm was the closest to the edge of town, he'd walked to it a hundred times to deliver tools. And it was the closest farm to the workshop…

He crested the final hill and came up to the old Arclight house, one of the furthest out in the village. As he approached, he heard nothing. Only the banging of shutters caught in the wind. He circled it and looked at the broken windows and the collapsed fence, and swallowed his anxiety as he turned to look out at the rest of Ansel sprawling out in the rolling dip between the larger hills around them.

The village lay silent… A few buildings were burning, black smoke climbing into the sky. All the rest were silent, but undamaged. All he could hear was the sound of the fires, and the banging of doors and shutters left open, carried to him on the cool wind. His eyes roved over the village to the shop, and he took off for it.

Not a soul met him on the road…

Inside, the shop was quiet and dark. The forge had been quenched, and the candles put out, but he could see well enough through the windows and airing holes that dotted the wall and roof. Every tool was in its place, and when he turned, he found the door to what had been his room closed. But…

Port's hammer was an impressive, special, handmade thing, with a weighted iron grip the man had made himself and a head that could cave in skulls as well as pounding out metal. And, according to the village gossips, it had been used for both plenty of times in his younger years. Years Port never liked to talk about, at least beyond the women he'd known.

Unless he was using it, it always hung on a horseshoe-hook by the door, but the hook was empty…

"Arc!" He heard the door open and turned as Cardin came in, scowling deeply. He was red-faced and out of breath from running and flanked by a couple other knights. "What are you doing you fool! The captain is liable to have you flogged for this!"

"Didn't you see the village?!" He said and tried to shove by, only for the man's hand to close on his shoulder and shove him back towards the forge. He felt his blood race and pressure build behind his eyes, and snarled, "I have to know where my father is!"

"Your father?" Cardin blinked, confused, "I thought Lord Arc-"

"Not my- Gah!" He waved a hand around him and explained, "I was raised here! Port's hammer wasn't just for- It was special, and it's missing. That means he left with it!"

"Or bandits struck and took it." A knight offered quietly, adding under her breath, "Faunus raiders maybe? We're not impossibly far from the coast…"

"They took a hammer, but not any of his tools?" Jaune countered, that pressure building to a throb that matched his every heart-beat. Turning, he gestured at a quartet of mostly repaired swords and added, "But they'd leave good blades behind, too?"

"Something happened, and we came for Grimm. Not raiders." Cardin snapped lowly, "One of you, get to the Captains. Tell them we're certain it was Grimm. Lord Arc and I will begin searching the village. On lord Arc's authority, right?"

"My- Can I-" He blinked, then nodded. He didn't care about whether he was allowed to do that or not. Not right now at least. Stammering, he said, "B-By my, uh, House's name?"

The two knights traded confused glances, then shrugged, and one turned and left. The other turned to him, nodded, and pressed a fist to his heart in a small, short salute.

"Well." Cardin sighed as he turned back to him, "He won't be able to buy us much time. Let's get to it, then, before the captains send someone to kick both our asses."

All they found upstairs were the scattered remains of a half-eaten breakfast strewn across the floor, and rats that squeaked angrily as they came in.

"Surprised at breakfast, but not by Grimm." Cardin grunted, turning a look on him and grimacing under the rim of his helmet. Like he was trying to reassure him, he went on, "The Grimm would've made a bigger mess. And they wouldn't have shut the door behind them."

"Y-Yeah…"

"Think, Arc." Cardin grunted, "Where in this village would everyone go? Where would the fight be?"

"I-I know of one place…"

"Yeah?"

"Temple's in the heart of the settlement…" He said quietly, voice all too loud in the silence of what had once upon a time been his home. "Four stone walls, open ground around it, a perimeter wall."

"The best place to fight." The knight behind Cardin grunted, "If I had to make a stand, holy ground would be my choice. Especially against those demons."

XxX----XxX----XxX

The temple and market at the heart of Ansel had always been a warm place, filled with the smell of incense from the temple, flowers from the temple garden, and all manner of fresh food. He'd carry down horse-shoes, tools for workmen, and supplies for the temple, and take it all in. Sometimes Miss Aqua would even send her daughter over to speak to him and give him some of the burnt bread she'd otherwise have to throw out.

He always had to scrape off the burnt parts, of course, but the fresh bread was always a tasty addition to his meals for the week.

"The rains probably stopped it from spreading." Cardin rumbled from his shoulder, "And I'm… I'm certain these people were at the temple."

"The gods protect, Brother." The other knight, Oliver he had introduced himself as, added, "We had best move on."

"Yeah…"

After a moment's prayer, he turned away from the collapsed, blackened bakery and continued on his way. His eyes stung for the hazy smoke that clung to the ground, drifting about and filling his mouth with the thick, cloying scent of ash. But ahead and above, he could see the dome of the temple, peeking through whenever the smoke was blown away by the breeze. If he could see it, that meant the temple wa still standing.

And if the temple were still standing-

"Gods." Cardin gasped as they finally reached the paved road that encircled the temple and market.

And found it littered by dozens of bodies, ripped into pieces, crushed underfoot, and buried under collapsed barricades. Splashes of dark red blood intermingled with drier, black and brown swathes splashed across the road and the wall around the temple. The temple's wall had collapsed in places, bodis broken over and through it where the Grimm had fought through.

And over it all loomed the temple…

Its stone walls were blackened and collapsed in places, and it's beautiful glass windows had shattered. Its doors sagged on their hinges, great claw marks gouged into them. Dozens more bodies littered the garden in front of it, ripped to pieces and surrounded by shattered and bent pitchforks, picks, and whatever else they'd managed to scrabble together. Close to the door, he saw the robes and collars of Chastened, scattered in front of the door in a last line of defence for the temple, and everyone who had been inside.

Or… Second to last.

Jaune sank to his knees and looked at the still, mangled, ruined face of his father, leaned against the door with his hammer in his hand. Its head lay a few feet away.

"Arc…"

"I warned him." Jaune murmured, distantly aware of the man kneeling down beside him and laying a hand on his shoulder. He was more aware of that throbbing in the base of his skull, building up to a tremor behind his eyes. "I-I told him to fix the fastenings. The head fell off so often…"

"He was the last in line." Cardin said, "He couldn't have held out on his own."

"He told me he killed an Ursa once…" Jaune said, "When he was a… A wanderer, is how he said it."

"A-Ah…"

"He was a bad guy, I know, but…" Gods, his head throbbed- He pressed a fist against his forehead to ward it off, but the pressure kept building. Kept climbing. Reaching for a crescendo that he could feel-

"He was your father." Cardin grunted, pulling him around to face him and nodding grimly. "You will have your vengeance, Brother. We shall make an Oath of it."

"An oath…?"

"An Oath of the Moment." He grunted, grasping his arm and dragging him up as he stood. "Short version, it's a vow to do something. Protect someone, kill something. Something important, with a singular goal."

"I see…" It sounded familiar, and as the throbbing behind his eyes slipped away he remembered. "Like a questing vow?"

"You know of those?"

"I read about it the other night."

"Ah." Cardin nodded, "Aye, but Questing vows are holy matters. We've no church-men to issue one. Ours is a personal oath. If, uh, if you're willing."

"I-I am."

"Then I swear on my blood and bone to aid you in your search for vengeance." Cardin nodded grimly, "By all the gods and the Brothers too I swear, brother, every last one of these demons will die, or I will."

"They'll all die." Jaune nodded, taking the hand Cardin offered and growling deep in his throat. "Even if we have to drag every last one down ourselves."

"Aye." Cardin smiled, "Even if it is so."

"I stand witness." Oliver murmured, "We should hurry back, but… There's wood, and bodies that need accounting. You know these folk?"

"Many of them…"

"Then help me prepare the pyre, and we will send them off."

"The pyre-yard is behind the temple, and should have some." Jaune nodded and turned to follow the two knights to do just that. The work didn't help soothe the boiling in his blood or the ache in his chest.

But the pressure in his head had eased, at least…