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G.N. Chapter 14
🕑 Added 2023-02-23 06:04:52 +0000 UTC*Yeets next chapter into the room dripping wet and smelling like a wet dog* I AM ALIVE! HAHAHAH!
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Chapter 14 The Next Steps
“… But it was locked….” Jaune relayed as he relaxed, his back pressed to the wall, his pistol resting in his lap at the ready. “So, I figured I should come back and talk to you, seeing as how you told me about Cathedral Ward in the first place….”
A brief stint of wheezing coughs that left Jaune afflicted with concern rung out from behind the barred window. As the coughs died off, the sickly individual spoke up, “yes, I see… But the great bridge is the only way into Cathedral Ward. And during the hunt, the bridge is closed… Hmm.”
Jaune softly bumped his head into the wall behind him and sighed frustratedly. “There cannot be but one path that would be ridiculous.”
A contemplative silence appeared in their conversation as the two assessed their options. Then, finally, a stunted cough broke it as Gilbert, Jaune’s fellow foreigner, spoke up once more with some pep to his weak voice. “You could try the aqueduct?”
“An aqueduct?” Jaune whispered, wondering where he might have seen something of that design.
Gilbert continued as if Jaune had not spoken, “there’s a rather, how shall I put it, colourful area south of the great bridge. From there, an aqueduct leads to the Cathedral Ward.”
“Truly? On the south side past the main street?”
Gilbert cleared his throat before replying, his voice slightly breathless. “Not a place you’d normally want to visit, but… I don’t imagine you have much of a choice. Do you?”
“No, I don’t suppose I do… Thank you, Gilbert, your assistance is greatly appreciated,” Jaune enthused, a pleasant smile appearing on his features as he rose to stand. He found himself genuinely warmed by Gilbert. The man was a remarkable ally in a place like Yharnam.
“Ah, bear it no mind,” Gilbert started, only to pause as a fresh coughing fit tore through his body, Jaune waiting patiently for it to end with an empathetic grimace on his face as he listened. “… As I see it, we are too closely linked for me to turn a blind eye on your plight… out there; as a hunter in this cursed town… but more so as a fellow outsider, I can only imagine the vitriol directed at you.”
Jaune let his mind drift back to the few times he had bothered to try and gather information from those few residents who had remained locked inside their homes. The sneer that came to his features was not kind, but neither was how those folks had received him. For the most part, all seemed far too willing to send him off, almost baying for his swift demise.
Suddenly a faint spark of cognisance went off in Jaune’s head as he recalled a curiosity he wanted answers for. “That reminds me, Gilbert, how did you come to know I was an outsider so swiftly?”
A few stifled coughs preceded Gilbert’s response, “oh, that? I could say it was your attire, too delicate for the common man and not fine enough or embellished for a wealthier resident or man of the church.” Gilbert pointed out, pausing to take a few steadying breaths to settle his lungs better.
“I could say it was that you were out and about during the night of the hunt dressed nothing like a hunter should be.” Gilbert continued his shadow, moving in his window, depicting his arms gesturing towards Jaune’s apparel.
“But it was your scent,” Gilbert finished plainly, giving a couple of soft wheezing coughs.
Jaune could not help but blink at this most absurd response, “m-my scent?”
“Oh aye, you’ll find that the Healing Church’s special blood does work miracles, properly ministered it is a curative said to heal any disease… it was what brought me to this bloody town… but the blood does more than that. It revitalises the weary, heals the injured, restores the elderly and strengthens the weak. So truly, it is a miracle cure, no?” Gilbert finished before devolving into a colossal cough fit, the largest Jaune had heard.
“Gilbert!” Jaune exclaimed, his hand grasping at the bars of the man’s window.
The fit continued for a little longer before dying into choked, wheezing gasps. Gilbert spoke with a voice horrifically sapped of its strength and plagued by greedy pants. “Ugh… damn Yharno’s… I haven’t had anyone call me by my name in so long that I was starting to forget what it sounded like… thankyou… thankyou Jaune… for your concern, I mean… I am afraid I must lay down, and it would probably be best not to tarry you further.”
“… Of course… stay safe Gilbert…” Jaune spoke softly as he bid his ally farewell.
“Mmm, *cough* the same to you, brave hunter,” Gilbert replied, his weakened voice doing nothing to hide the smile in his words.
YVYVYVYVY
Trudging through central Yharnam once more, Jaune found his thoughts centred on his need to acquire more… suitable apparel.
Only by the grace of whatever powers facilitated his access to the dream were his clothes restored. Otherwise, his current attire would be the most atrocious colour of congealed and dried blood.
And also terribly burnt and ravaged to high hell.
As he continued his trek following Gilbert’s directions, he found himself investigating the area his friend could have been referring to. But despite his best efforts, he was nearing the great bridge and still hadn’t seen this ‘Aqueduct’.
Folding his Saw Cleaver back up after having freshly decapitated another beastly resident, he sighed. At points, he was led to believe that whatever architect they had employed to design this city was afflicted with severe madness. Why did all these damn streets have to look so bloody similar? It was confusing and made his job as a Hunter much more difficult.
Then he smelt it.
The air of the streets of Yharnam was thick with all manner of powerful stenches. The main street was pungent with the stink of burning fur and flesh and the stank of the unwashed beastly resident in their pogroms.
The back alleys were no better. There the scent of blood seemed to cling to every crack and crevice. As if the cobble of the street itself was bleeding, the smell was damn near inescapable or at least it would be if not for the third most potent aroma.
The incense.
Made to ward off the beastly scourge, it was thick around the inhabited residences and did an excellent job of blanketing the other smells in their entirety. It was a good indicator that there was another sane inhabitant about whenever he picked up that smell.
But this new scent was unlike the others. It was by no means a good smell; if anything, it was worse. It was faint, but its cloying uniqueness clung to his airways. It evoked in his mind images of decay and rot. Finally, Jaune surrendered to the fact that it was his best lead and traced the scent to a section behind the great bridge.
A nondescript alley loaded with old wooden crates and barrels, the sight of which did a lot to douse Jaune’s hopes. His mind twisting to think it was likely just some cargo that had gone off, but with no other alternative, Jaune pressed on.
He tried to move through quietly, but upon his first attempt at moving one of the crates, the pathetic thing all but crumbled beneath his shoving heel. Jaune stared at it, his mouth agape as he tried to reason out what these could be made of, paper mâché perhaps.
Frustrated at his failed attempt to be quiet, Jaune ploughed through the blockage, moving the obstructing crates or breaking through some of them quickly. Then, much to his amazement, he found a drop behind the poorly constructed cargo. The alleyway’s abrupt ending elicited Jaune to reflect once more on the design choices of Yharnam.
Leaning over, he took the brunt of that moist cloying scent straight to the face as he beheld what looked like a shoddily boarded-up cistern. Or the more likely answer, the aqueduct that Gilbert had directed him to.
A scowl grew on Jaune’s face as he leaned back, snorting to rid his nose of the odorous smell. “It’s a bloody sewer,” Jaune grumbled aloud as he scoffed at Gilbert’s description of it being an aqueduct.
Aquaducts should not reek of death and filth.
“Bugger…” Jaune sniffed, stepping back before throwing himself over the alley’s edge and across the gap where some of the wood had broken off. He landed safely on the remnants of the shoddy wooden cover, the old planks creaking below him as he did his best not to cringe at the sound.
Looking over the edge once more, he saw torches held by monstrous figures cast in shadows and lower-still shapes moving in the black of the waterways. Jaune found himself missing the moonlit night above as he was confronted with the darkness below. But he had to press on.
He had to.
Pulling his Saw Cleaver free and palming his pistol, he descended into the sewer below, doing his best not to breathe too heavily.
Soon after, the foul tunnels were filled with beastly screams and gunfire as the Hunt resumed.
YVYVYVYVY
Jaune’s morning started quite pleasantly.
He had been granted a whole peaceful night’s rest, his dreams for once fairer than usual. Probably because he had been graced by three of his sisters to comfort him and settle the screaming horrors in his mind. Saphron had been the third, and while Jaune wished it was under better circumstances, the fact that the occasional nightmare still plagued his sister was an aggravating reality for the time being.
Jaune made sure to chase any such manifestations away with ferocious efficiency.
When he had left his bed and headed for the kitchen, he had pleasantly discovered that his whole family was to be present, his father already cooking a hearty family feast and his mother drinking coffee that had the consistency of pitch.
He had joined his family for a beautiful weekend morning filled with warmth and love that indescribably fulfilled him.
Then, after breakfast, he joined his mother outside for their regular training.
That’s when his morning took a notable shift.
The sound of his ribs straining against the force of another mighty kick was almost as bad as the sound his head made as it bounced off the floor. Jaune was pinned entirely with his mother’s boot swiftly planted atop his chest in addition to the enhanced gravity. The inquisitive glare of his mother had Jaune slumping in defeat as he did his best to regain control of his breathing.
Hella quickly stepped off Jaune, moving to the central pillar and deactivating the enhanced gravity. The groan of relief he let out as he coughed his lungs back into working order was soon joined by the sounds of Hella’s demure, slightly evil laughter.
“Honey, don’t you think you might be… going a touch overboard?” Cloud spoke up from the recently constructed sandpit he was in with his youngest daughters.
“No,” Hella replied succinctly.
“Ahh… very well then,” Cloud shrugged, returning to his shared efforts of building a sandcastle with the twins. It was more of a sand lump, but the young girls seemed to enjoy it all the same.
“Dad, that’s all you got?” Scarlett snorted from a nearby hammock as she continued to scroll on her Scroll.
“Yeah, Jaune looks really out of it,” Saphron fretted, still processing the brutality she had just witnessed.
“He can take it,” Hella sniffed, taking a drink from her water bottle.
“Yeah! Jaune’s tougher than anyone!” Jade cheered.
“He is the best,” Sky echoed beside her sister, who was drawing on the patio.
“That better be chalk, young ladies!” Cloud roused from the sand pit, noting what his daughters were up to.
“It is!”
With a pained groan, Jaune rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself off the padded floor, his ribs whole but not in the best condition. Looking at his mother, he saw her staring him down with a quirked brow, wondering if he would voice his opinion of her training.
Not one to disappoint, Jaune stretched momentarily before replying, “ready when you are.”
Hella smirked with pride, rising to stand, her body relaxed as she instead began to inspect her son’s freshly beaten form. “It is miraculous, I put a weapon in your hands, and you can wield it with such a natural ease that the term prodigy would be insufficient to describe you.”
“Thank you, mother,” Jaune smiled, bowing his head.
“Yet in hand-to-hand combat… you are talented for sure, but compared to the talent you display with a weapon in hand… is this what it is to be savant, I wonder,” Hella mused aloud, her fingers inspecting her child’s ribs, making sure none were broken.
“I would not know, mother… have I proved myself capable yet?” Jaune enquired hopefully, his words causing his mother to prod his ribs more forcefully as her features became rather stoic.
“No.”
“Then I would ask that we continue. I want to depart come spring,” Jaune enthused, stepping back and shifting his stance into the one his mother was teaching him.
“… Remind me again why this is so important to you?” Hella nipped, returning to the central pillar to activate the enhanced gravity.
“Dad did it,” Jaune answered succinctly, but seeing Hella’s unimpressed face, he continued, “my father did it, my family, as did my ancestors. It is a shared hardship, one I wish to experience.”
“But why?”
“Exactly because it is a sharedhardship… a trial that goes back to before the founding of the kingdoms, to this very day, a streak that spans millenniums… I want to be a part of that,” Jaune answered, unaware he was smiling unconsciously.
Hella, seeing this, did her best not to let her stone-like expression crack as she still held many reservations about this entire quest.
“Well, what if you underwent another tradition instead? What about one from another line?” Hella tried, thinking about Jaune’s paternal grandmother.
“Oh… that’s a good point. So what did your family do as a coming-of-age rite?” Jaune asked, his expression far too inquisitive as Hella felt a chill race down her spine.
“… Nothing,” Hella lied through her teeth, knowing full well her son saw through it but was smart enough not to press the matter. “But what about your grandmother? Cloud!”
“What?” Jaune’s father shouted back as he tried to sit his darling baby daughters atop their combined sand fort. It was not pretty enough to be called a castle, but they were Arc’s dammit, and a fort would suffice for his two darling baby warrior princesses.
“What did your mother’s tribe do for coming of age rite?” Hella hollered.
“Travel across the country in their own caravan,” Cloud replied, smiling triumphantly as his twin daughters looked at him in puzzlement from their sandy throne.
“… What?” Hella hissed, befuddled by the madness that seemed to exist on her husband’s side of the family.
“It was to prove they had the ‘chops’ to handle the nomadic way of life,” Jaune elaborated.
“Yeah, I tried that angle too, honey,” Cloud called over his shoulder, looking away from the twins as he shot his wife an apologetic shrug. But, unfortunately, when he looked back, the twins had sunk entirely into the fort, and all his hard work was ruined.
“Gods be damned,” Cloud grunted, heaving the twins up and moving them back to the patio, definitely not sulking at this lack of sand-building skills.
“I married into a family of lunatic survivalists,” Hella mumbled as she palmed her face. Then, removing her hands from her eyes, she saw her precious, wonderful son giving her a tiny compassionate smile as he stood there expectantly.
Hella wondered if Jaune had any clue how much power he wielded with that tiny smile, it was like seeing a ray of sunshine pierce through the stormiest clouds in the sky. A little warm beacon that made her want to hold him and never let go.
“… Scarlett!” Hella called out, getting her eldest’s attention as she sat up in her hammock, her Scroll in one hand and a fruit yoghurt in the other. “Take over with the twins for your father. I need to speak to him.”
Jaune was swiftly directed to a seat at the edge of the training ring, his mother sitting next to him and his father coming to lounge in front of them, his lap still coated in sand. “The girls like the sandbox. I am glad we had it put in,” Cloud exclaimed, a heartfelt smile on his face as he looked over to said twins, who were now playing with all their sisters.
“I am glad… both of you tell me what this thing, this ritual or whatever… tell me what it entails….” Hella ordered begrudgingly. Her words were met with an excited grin from Jaune and a defeated groan from Cloud. Hella seeing this kicked her husband’s foot in exasperation, “what is wrong with you? I thought you were ok with this!”
“I am… but you couldn’t have lasted another week,” Cloud complained. The sounds of footsteps on the grass had both Hella and Jaune turning around to see Saphron looking dejected with a couple of lien in her hand.
“Scarlett wants her winnings…” the girl harumphed.
“… My wallet is on the kitchen counter….” Cloud moped on the floor, earning a nod from Saphron, who walked back over to a particularly triumphant Scarlett.
Hella watched all this, her eyes gaining a notable edge as she eyed her husband with a raised brow. “You were betting on me?” She asked with a very ominous tone.
“Yes and no….” Cloud answered swiftly, sitting back up, face still sour.
“Explain.”
“I said two weeks before you would cave to Jaune. Saph had three days, Scarlett had a week….” Cloud admitted his eyes stalwart in not meeting his wife.
“… You are going to make me a very wonderful dinner… or else,” Hella warned.
“Yes, dear.”
“… Now tell me about this quest thing before I change my mind,” Hella ordered, looking notably flustered that she was so predictable.
“Of course, mother essentially….” Jaune began going into the history of the rite and why it came about, how it went back to the earliest days of the far north and had been enacted by Arcs and probably other tribes up to modernity.
Hella listened closely, engaged by her son’s enthusiasm and enjoying how he seemed to take after his father. The older Arc male only speaking up to clarify or add tidbits to Jaune’s explanation when needed. Eventually, though, the explanation got off track and devolved into the two discussing the historical and anthropological complexities behind the coming-of-age ritual.
But Hella, being Cloud’s wife, knew when someone was getting too invested in the historical side of things and quickly cut her son off. “That is all fascinating, sunshine, and I am happy to see you take after your father, but I was hoping for more… functional information… you know specifics about the actual quest itself, what it entails, rules and whatnot.”
“Oh, right, apologies, mother,” Jaune chuckled, bowing his head a little, a faint hint of embarrassment on his refined expression.
“Since I am by tradition the tribe head and tribe elder, I will explain,” Cloud piped up, sitting upright.
“So the fact is that the tradition has undergone many changes from its original design all those millennia ago. I don’t know if there is an agreed-upon true method or if those few practising clans each have their own.” The Arch patriarch spoke with a shrug.
“Then how is it meant to be official?” Hella asked, her brow furrowed.
“That’s easy. Each clan has always had their own… peculiarities and, as such, has had its version of the ‘First Quest’. Some were so similar that they may as well have been identical, but what mattered was that the rules and tradition of the rite were recorded within the clan itself. Whether it be via spoken word retained by the elder, on the carvings of their great hall, or legend stones,” Cloud explained as he reached into his back pocket and pulled his Scroll out, opening the device up to a text file.
“Us Arcs lost our legend stones before the formation of Mantle, but we were a well-educated bunch and had already transitioned to books,” Jaune’s father gloated. “The actual text is hidden beneath the house in a Vault so secure it would take enough explosive ordinance to level a sizeable section of Reach to get inside. However, opening it’s a pain, so we will settle for a text file!” Cloud announced happily, showing his Scroll to his wife.
“… This is quite modern….” Hella mumbled to herself, taking the device from her husband and giving it a quick scan.
“Yeah… the family have been protecting the actual text and adding to it since we came over from the far north… it’s the second most valuable thing this house holds, so why risk taking it out just for a read, ya know?” Cloud explained, fiddling with the hem of his pants.
“Only second, what’s first?” Jaune asked.
“Oh, you kids and your mother, the book is just a book. The family always comes first… words can be rewritten. The clan matters most; been that way since before we were Arcs.” Cloud spoke with pride.
Jaune ruminated on that, a smile overcoming his features as he spoke quietly, “my ancestors were wise.”
“Right, this is cool, and I am proud of you for modernising this very ancient text, but where are the rules for the rite?” Hella snipped, still scrolling through the very sizeable file. “What the hell, Cloud? Some of this isn’t even written in proper common!”
“Well yeah… I haven’t gotten around to finishing the translated version yet. It’s a big bloody book,” Cloud whined, crossing his arms.
“Cloud, instructions… now,” Hella demanded, returning the Scroll to her husband.
“Ah, right… ok, here, the important thing to know is that the rite underwent some major revisions when we moved to Vale and again when Reach became our new ancestral home. The most modern revisions were made by my great-grandfather during the Great War and were just a few minor provisions that only really come into effect during wartime,” Cloud explained, his eyes scanning over the text.
Hella leaned over, also wanting to read her great-grandfather-in-law’s words, only to give a surprised exclamation before growling, “why is it still not common? The general knew how to speak common dammit; there are exerts from his journal in all major history books!”
“Hehe… all additions to the book proper are meant to be in Mæli… it’s a tradition,” Cloud admitted giving a guilty smile.
At this, Hella’s gaze whipped around to Jaune with an accusing stare as she eyed her only male child with an inquisitive look. “How exactly did you learn about this write if all records of it seem to be in this old rune scratch? Where is the book you learnt it from?”
“It was also written in Mæli,” Jaune admitted.
“Huh? You can read this?” Hella proclaimed, showing Jaune the runic script of old Mantle by snatching her Husband’s scroll from his hands. Cloud’s indignant complaint was summarily ignored.
“I can speak it as well,” Jaune admitted in Mæli, his mother stunned by the ease with which he spoke a completely foreign language. Cloud, of course, took advantage of this to nab back his Scroll, giving his wife a sour look.
“When did you learn Mauli?” Hella asked, her features softening.
“Mæli… and I started learning when father showed me Crocea Mors… I wanted to read the runes on it,” Jaune admitted.
“Oh… can you speak any other languages?” Hella asked in curiosity.
“… Yes, but not as comfortably….” Jaune admitted, his mind immediately dancing back to the language of Yharnam, the precursor language used by the Pthumerians and the even older text he could only read hailing from ancient Loran.
“Oh, how is your Mistralian?” Hella asked, a small amount of jealousy tinging her words as she gave her still-distracted husband a side-on look.
“Getting better… truthfully, I have not practised it recently, reading it is somewhat difficult as I struggle with the different structure, but I admit I find many of the principles more comfortable and easy to understand than other languages,” Jaune admitted a few common Mistralian phrases flickering through his mind.
“Oh, why haven’t you practised it recently,” Hella pried, surprised to find that her son had such interests as he never talked about them. The little sunshine was certainly an enigmatic child, but she adored him all the same.
“Oh, because I saw dads collection in the library included a tome that was written in a very early version of Dunetch, and it had momentarily captivated my attention… it is not easy,” Jaune scowled, thinking about the intricacy of Dunetch the words looking as if they were symbols etched into literal dunes by the desert wind.
“The spoken word is even worse. They called it Zephthis, and it has its symbol and meaning, which is also the symbol for ‘evoke’ and ‘speak’ but also, depending on its orientation, can mean ‘soothing’ and ‘art’ or if used with particular adjectives is instead written to refer to a set of actions and strangely enough has both masculine and feminine variations….” Jaune vented to his mother, his tone becoming disgruntled as he thought about the complex language.
“I… I see… do you enjoy it?” Hella enquired, leaning into her son’s shoulder gently.
Jaune smiled at his mother’s comfort as he replied, “yes… but I can now fully understand why common spread so prolifically in the age of establishment.”
“It was already spreading before that, but it became solidified once all four nations were actively engaged and proved the easiest form of interpretation between traders….” Cloud finally chimed in, looking up from his Scroll. “It was one of the few times in that period where the actions of the commoners played a major factor in the decisions made by the nobles and upper castes.”
“Finished your readings, my husband?” Hella quickly interjected, wanting to avoid her boys devolving into another analytical discussion about historical matters.
“Yep… so… you’re not gonna like this,” Cloud stated, looking his wife dead in the eye.
“Of course I won’t,” Hella sighed, stroking Jaune’s hair.
YVYVYVYVY
In the times of old, the rite of ‘The First Quest’ was known as the ‘Trial of Worth’. It just got a fancier name because the original name carried too many negative preconceptions. In its earliest iterations, it was as simple as the young up-and-coming clan member departing the tribe to head to a predetermined location requiring one whole day of travel. They would then have to survive in the far north's tundra for five full days before returning.
All in all, the trial took a week.
The person undertaking the trial was expected to provide food and water for that week. In truth, not an impossible challenge if you could find a source of heat, but that was where the challenge came in. Wood was a valuable commodity in the far north, and to one without their Aura unlocked, the frigid winds and white-caked snowscape were a lethal environment.
Most participants died of exposure. A few from starvation, of course, but even more from dehydration. Some perished to other natural events, a fall down an ice crag, being crushed by falling rocks, drowning in a frozen lake, or being eaten by a Tyrant Ice Bear… the north was not a gentle place.
And, of course, a few died to the Grimm.
It underwent further revisions and adaptations until it became the traditional Arc rite, and then it changed even further as the Arcs migrated from the far north to Sanus. It became less a challenge of survival and more a challenge for aspiring youths. It was actually the inspiration for a couple of Valean Knight trials.
When the Arc tribe settled fully in the location of Reach, becoming the nobles of the old highlands, the trial underwent its final and most extensive alteration. That was why if you were to show it to the original Arcs of the far north, the rite would be all but unrecognisable to the traditional undertakers of the task.
The major difference between the original and the new one was the duration.
In the untamed far north, with scarce food, warmth, shelter and blizzards cold enough to freeze a sneeze while it was still in your mouth, you were expected to last a week.
But in the wonderous plentiful wilds of Vale…
“THREE MONTHS!” Hella roared, looking ready to throw her husband about like a ragdoll.
“Yep,” Cloud shrugged, knowing this would be his wife’s reaction.
“The writing reads as one entire season, but….” Jaune trailed off, seeing the smouldering look of barely restrained ire in his mother’s amethyst orbs.
“How the hell did you lunatic northerners go from one week to three bloody months… no wonder there are so few Arcs left; you lot are suicidal,” Hella continued.
“It was necessary,” Cloud half-heartedly defended. “Vale is rich in natural resources, more trees than you can shake a stick at and plentiful with both edible plants and animals.”
“AND GRIMM!” Hella all but bellowed at her husband.
“Yes… and Grimm,” Cloud admitted.
“So because they wouldn’t die by freezing to death, you just throw the kids to the soulless destroyers instead!” Hella spoke, her fists clenching as her knuckles popped audibly.
“Not exactly… see, in the far north, the kids were left well… mostly to their own devices. The judge sent to officiate them was there to make sure they didn’t cheat mostly and, if necessary, slay any Grimm that survived the freezing temperatures,” Cloud explained, scrolling to the page that covered the regulations and rules the Judge of the rite must abide by.
“When we got to Vale, we, of course, noticed the insane increase in the amount of Grimm as compared to the far north. Because of this, it was made law that the judge for the rite must be a Slayer,” Cloud explained plainly.
“And what exactly is a Slayer?” Hella queried.
“Old north term for a Huntsman,” Jaune pipped up again, his voice neutral.
“Yeah, basically, while the kid was undergoing the rite, the judge would be tasked with killing any Grimm that even came close to the testing area. So they were forced to be much more hands-on to keep the trial fair but still challenging.” Cloud finished closing his Scroll after double-checking the judges' responsibilities.
“Father, I thought you stated that you underwent this trial also. Shouldn’t you be aware of all this?” Jaune spoke, voicing his confusion.
“Yes, I should have been, but none of this was explained to me back then. My old man just said to hell with it and tossed me into some random woods… we never even found out how long we were in there for either….” Cloud grunted, an unusual look coming to his face as he turned away from Jaune.
“Hmm… well, it’s still not perfect, but having a Huntsman on hand is better than nothing, I suppose,” Hella tsked, changing the topic as she voiced her opinion.
“We might be crazy, but we still wanted our kids to survive, and I will remind you that by the time we established ourselves in Vale, this rite was entirely voluntary,” Cloud elucidated.
“Yes, because children are known for their exceptional decision-making skills,” Hella opined.
“Hella, the Arcs were renowned for being Huntsman, soldiers, warriors… you know what that type of lineage carries,” Cloud admonished, giving his wife a meaningful look.
Hella seemed to be brought up short at this, her lips pursing as her eyes narrowed. Then, seeing his mother's tense reaction to his father’s words, Jaune reached out and laid his hand over her clenched fist.
Hella’s head twisted about to look at her sunshine. He was once again giving her that same gentle smile. So small but earnest, a stark contrast to his usual neutral expression, that it stood out like a roaring flame in the dark. Hella wished he would smile more. He was such a handsome boy when he smiled. He would be the envy of many a man as he grew older, no doubt.
“Mother, I can handle this,” Jaune proclaimed.
“Jaune, the Grimm are not something to take lightly,” Hella admonished but was brought up short by the swift agreement of her only son.
“I could not agree more; I assure you I am not ignoring the threat they pose and will be sure to abide by the Judges words so as not to put myself at more risk.” Jaune enthused his words honest as he beseeched his mother to be understanding.
“… Can I be this judge, or does it have to be you since you’re the elder of the Arcs?” Hella asked her husband, Jaune smiling as she seemed to agree to allow him to partake of the rite.
“Actually… neither of us is allowed to be the judge because of bias… as we are both direct relations to him, we will need to find a third party to officiate,” Cloud mumbled, scratching at the stubbled about his chin.
“A third party?” Hella uttered, displeased by the notion.
“Yeah, but don’t worry… hehe, I got just the person in mind,” Cloud chuckled, rubbing his hands together in a plotting manner.
Hella looking at her husband’s ridiculous antics, hung her head with a laboured sigh. Both Arc men remained quiet as she kept that same pose, waiting on pins and needles for her verdict. The seconds seemed to drag on, and Jaune even nervously scratched at his pant leg.
After far too long, Hella looked up and breathed to centre herself. Then, in a tone of voice befitting a general at war, she spoke, “I am willing to allow Jaune to participate in this… uncouth ritual, but I have some conditions.”
Jaune, in a feat of speed, twisted about, rising from his seat in one smooth motion until he stood before his mother giving her a perfect bow of respect without even thinking. Then, from his bowed position, Jaune spoke, “thankyou mother, I know that you have your reservations, but I will not let you down.”
Hella’s hands came up to caress her son’s face, those cheeks still so flush with life and the tiniest amount of baby weight giving beneath her thumbs as they ran across his features. “My darling Sunshine… I truly worry that I spoil you,” Hella mused, a tiny smirk appearing on her lips as she held her darling boy.
Of course, Cloud hearing this, snorted and had to interject, “honey, you literally just got done kicking the shit out of him like five minutes ago.”
Back on the house’s patio, the Arc girls watched as their mother pinned their squealing father, who dwarfed her in size, while Jaune watched on curiously.
YVYVYVYVY
With his mother’s acquiescence, Jaune’s father began to truly train him in the essential skills he would need to survive in the wild. One of his mother’s conditions was that Cloud would take time off to use every day possible to ensure Jaune was prepared.
Cloud had accepted readily.
Jaune had never had more fun. It was incredible. Every day, he and his father would venture out to the woods behind the Arc house to practice, which Jaune learned was a part of the old Arc estate. The woods were donated to Reach and were now a reserve to give the people a glimpse of nature's beauty without descending off the plateau.
A glimmering hint of what could one day be. A world free of the Grimm.
There, his father imparted crucial knowledge to him, such as scavenging, securing shelter, and crafting. At the lake, he taught him how to fish by spear and rod; Jaune found he enjoyed both methods and took to them quickly. He also taught him how to procure safe drinking water and things to watch out for around water sources.
His father taught him about the edible local plants and, more importantly, those that were not. Jaune took extra care with this lesson and found that while he could locate most of them quickly enough, most were too bitter for his liking. Next would have been hunting, but first, Cloud had to teach Jaune camp and crafting skills.
Cloud started his instruction on camps by demonstrating the best locations to set up one, noting things like finding an area with ample shelter that would not flood. Next, Jaune listened as his father taught him everything from starting fires to fabricating tree platforms to aid in sleeping off the ground.
When it came time for the lessons on crafting tools, Jaune found he had a knack for it. From banging flint to handmade axes, the class took barely a day. Jaune was masterful at crafting improvised tools from branches and stones. So much so that Cloud was sure he would easily handle the other things.
Cloud was very much mistaken.
Jaune was garbage at weaving and couldn’t do it worth a damn; his first basket was, at best, a knotted bramble. But it was Jaunes reaction to this that made it worth it. Rather than getting upset at his failure, the boy put it to the side and immediately went and got a piece of wood.
Jaune carved himself a basket, more of a bowl, out of a hunk of wood and presented it to his father with an abject look of pride. Cloud, of course, wanted to fault him for this, but the whole purpose of the trial was to survive by your own means. If that meant carving instead of weaving, so be it.
Besides, they were on a tight schedule here.
With their time quickly running short, Cloud moved to their last lessons, hunting and trapping.
He should have saved his breath. Regarding traps, Jaune seemed to already have an appreciable knowledge of the subject. He could make everything from snares to a terrifyingly effective log trap that even Cloud would prefer to avoid being hit by.
Hunting was worse, or in this case, better.
Jaune was good, terrifyingly so.
They started with basics, stalking, moving silently and hiding.
Jaune proceeded to spend the better part of an entire hour tormenting his father as he managed to sneak up on him, not once, not twice, but a whopping thirty-seven times. Then, to ensure it wasn’t just him, he grabbed Hella and had Jaune try it on her.
Hella, his wife, the former head hunter trained since early childhood to excel at all things stealth, should have been easily able to best Jaune.
He managed to get her eight times.
Eager to move past the fact that his son was quieter than an actual jungle cat, he decided to move on to tracking prey. But, again, Cloud found he would have probably been better off having the boy practice his weaving some more.
Jaune might be living, breathing proof that somehow the Arcs had Faunus lineage. The boy was a bloodhound. To test his son, Cloud grabbed a young hog and set it loose in the woods with orders for Jaune to bring it back alive as fast as possible.
It didn’t even take an hour, and to add an extra layer of concern onto the matter, the pig was so damn traumatised by whatever Jaune did that when he placed it in front of him, it didn’t even try to run away. But, of course, cloud chose not to mention that or that Jaune seemed not to have even broken a sweat.
With the core of the survival training completed, Cloud felt much better about Jaune participating in the rite. The truth was that Cloud, with Hella's support, had planned to do the lessons naturally. He would have performed them as needed and dedicated as much time as Jaune required for each subject, only sending him off when he was good and ready.
So be it if that meant he undertook the rite later than spring. But Jaune had his own ideas in mind as he learned everything at the same pace he did the subjects at school.
With the basics covered, Cloud dedicated time to teaching a skill that would significantly improve Jaune’s time during the trial.
Cooking.
From personal experience, Cloud knew there was a difference between eating nutrients and feasting on food. He had already shown Jaune how to prepare food to ensure it was edible, but this would be more focused on improving the quality of what he would eat.
Amusingly this was another area Jaune seemed to struggle with, his meat often being quite char-grilled and his fish… well, he still ate it, but Cloud certainly wouldn’t. Cloud made sure to take note of Jaune having an iron stomach. Yet another quirk of his highly talented son.
With the start of spring rapidly approaching, Cloud was sometimes afflicted with a rather sour mood. In truth, he had greatly enjoyed this time spent with his son, the two of them fishing and camping in the woods together, and it saddened him to see its end. He had learned so much about his only male child, things that he hadn’t known before and might never have discovered without his son’s interest in his ancestry.
Things like his son hated all pigs, not just the Grimm types but even common farm hogs. And not some childish dislike named hate but an absolute venomous loathing that Cloud would really like an explanation for.
Cloud also learned that Jaune disliked the colour red but kept it to himself because he knew Scarlett favoured her namesake.
He learned that he loved the sight of Remnant’s ruined moon.
He enjoyed Sky’s singing even if she wasn’t all that good.
That he loved looking at all the pictures Jade had made for him and that he had never thrown a single one away.
He also learnt things that worried him, things that Jaune shared freely and that made Cloud realise the true extent of his boy’s faith in him.
He learned that Jaune still had horrible nightmares on occasion, nightmares so bad they made him dread sleeping alone.
He learned that Jaune sometimes spoke in his sleep… in a tongue he could not recognise or understand.
He learnt that Jaune did not flinch at death. It was evident when he snapped a hare’s neck as quickly as one scratched their nose. He also discovered his son was not queasy and was quick at skinning and disembowelment.
He also overheard Jaune cursing or swearing to a god he did not recognise, one he couldn’t find in texts or anywhere on the net.
All of this, each little thing he learned, felt like a treasure. Jaune was always the most difficult of Clouds children to approach; his maturity and reclusive nature made engaging in conversation more daunting than usual. Additionally, the fact that Jaune was the only boy in a house full of girls and his own… peculiarities had left cloud feeling distant from his child.
But after this wonderful month, Cloud had never felt more in tune with his son. He felt genuinely connected to the boy in a way he wasn’t before, and with the end of their training arriving, Cloud made a critical decision.
He decided they would spend their last day out on the lake fishing.
That was how Cloud again learned how much Jaune loved his family as the two Arc men spent the whole day on the water. The entire time Cloud noted Jaune was smiling, he smiled when the lake was placid and when there was a fish on the line. He even smiled when the little buggers slipped the hook.
It wasn’t until they were back to shore that Cloud realised he also had been smiling the whole time. So the two Arc males headed home after their day of father-son fishing with enthusiastic smiles and only one fish between them.
It might have just been one of the best days ever.
YVYVYVYVY
The start of the trial was now only a couple of days away, and the Arc household was enjoying a blessed night of peace with all its occupants present. It was in this heartening atmosphere that Hella and Cloud found themselves curled up on the couch in their study,
They had handed the twins over to Jaune for the evening. The boy was happy to spend some time with his baby sisters before he departed for the next few months. As such, the two Hunters had made a swift retreat into the quiet of their study and had been enjoying some quality alone time together.
Or at least Cloud was.
As he looked up from reading an essay on classical Mistralian texts that was only half capturing his interest in the first place, he noted that his wife’s book was on the same page it had been a few minutes before.
Thinking to do something, Cloud gently placed the essay on the bone carve table next to the lounge before wrapping his arms around Hella’s muscular stomach.
His wife twitched back to life at his contact, leaning back into his chest as her amethyst orbs curiously looked into his sky-blue ones. But, ever reserved, no words came from her despite her questioning gaze, so it fell to Cloud to initiate the conversation as it did most of the time.
“Speak to me. I know you are fretting; let me help,” Cloud coaxed, his right thumb tracing around one of Hella’s prominent abdominal scars. This particular one earned from her last bounty while still freelance.
“… Is he ready?” She spoke softly, exposing a vulnerable side. Hella fought like hell to hide usually.
“As much as he can be… our boy is truly something else,” Cloud answered, resting his chin on Hella’s head.
“He is… but I will still worry for him,” the mother of Jaune spoke.
“Me too,” Cloud rumbled.
“It feels strange to just send him off into the wild… stranger still to be doing so with his Aura still not unlocked,” Hella bemoaned.
“You thinking of having that argument with him again?” Cloud asked earnestly, curious to see if Hella would test whether or not the third time was the charm.
“No… no, his logic was sound, and he will be much safer without it,” Hella admitted.
“Yeah… still, I get where you are coming from, Aura feels like an essential thing out there, but I guess we just need to view this from his angle,” Cloud declared, gently massaging Hella’s hips.
Hella breathed audibly, relieved as her husband’s fingers dragged across rough scared flesh. “He is pretty good at arguing, and his Aura theory is top-notch, easily as good as any combat school graduate.”
“And to think he ain’t even got access to his own,” Cloud mirthfully stated.
“He was so succinct, ‘mother Aura attracts Grimm… why would I want to attract the Grimm?’ Only afterwards did I find out he did a damn essay on Aura casualties during the Great War.” Hella complained, her long silky black hair blown out of her eyes in a huff.
“Yeah… I read that one. Our boy writes well, very factually, with little to no emotion. A sparse opinion or proposed hypothetical but otherwise… course leaves the reading a little dry, but his knowledge was on point,” Cloud mumbled, his pride blatant.
“It’s funny to think that having Aura introduced to regiments caused them to suffer greater casualties at the hands of the Grimm… we are like beacons to them….” Hella uttered, her scowl deepening.
“All the better that Jaune doesn’t have his unlocked… a single lone human will be hard-pressed to attract even a single Grimm unless some hefty negative emotions afflict them,” Cloud spoke, reassuring his wife.
“But it could still happen-“
“Yes, but with the judge I have selected, even if one does get drawn to him, it won't be long for this world,” Cloud enthused his hands, tracing the bottom of Hella’s ribs.
“You sure?”
“Positive, and I have a surprise for you,” Cloud whispered, leaning in to trail kisses across his wife’s temple.
“Mm… is it that your hands have been slowly migrating to my breasts for the last minute?” Hella queried, unimpressed.
“No, that is just an amazing example of the wonders of magnetism,” Cloud replied shamelessly, his voice full of cheek. “My surprise is that I hired those damn herb twins to go on a culling expedition a week prior.”
Hella froze at this, her breath catching in her chest as she twisted about to look her husband in the eye. Cloud's triumphant expression beamed down at his wife, her look of surprise morphing into stunned happiness. “Really?” Hella whispered.
“Mmhmm, safeguards aside, I checked the rules, and it’s not against them, so Jaune won’t be upset, and now if he does come across any Grimm, they will all be fresh spawns. His judge will handle them without even breaking a sweat,” Cloud boasted.
“… Are you going to tell me who this judge is?” Hella pried, pressing down on her husband, her fingers dancing along his collarbone.
“It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Cloud breathed, his heart racing at the mischievous glimmer in his wife’s gaze.
“… I did not think I would have to persuade you,” Hella playfully griped her lips a breath away from her husband.
“Do you think you can?”
“Hmm, let us find-“
“MUM! DAD! JADE IS COVERED IN BLOOD!” A young voice screamed in panic, pounding on the door manically.
“ITS RED PAINT!” Jade screamed, her voice proximal to the first.
“How was I supposed to know?” Sky argued back just as loudly.
“I told you three times!” Jade ranted.
Both Arc parents could do nothing but lay there on the couch, their faces one of consternation as the previous mood was left in utter tatters. Slowly Hella laid her face flat against her husband’s chest and began to shake, Cloud giving her a peculiar look, a single brow raised in apprehension.
“I think your daughters want us,” Cloud accused.
“My daughters,” a cackling Hella startled.
“Yes, your daughters, my son is a dream child, wonderful, quiet and most importantly, not interrupting our alone time,” Cloud bemoaned, scooping Hella off his chest and placing her still chuckling frame on the couch. His complaints only seemed to worsen her amusement as Hella began to snicker breathlessly.
Cloud, accepting of his fate, headed over to the door, opening it to find Sky with red all over her feet and legs arguing with Jade, who was utterly caked in red semi-dry paint. Cloud looked over his shoulder at Hella, who was looking over the couch, her eyes alight with joy.
“So… how much paint is on my floors?” Cloud asked plainly, causing both girls to lock up and look at where they came from.
Cloud followed their gazes and knew there would be no nighttime activities with his wife tonight. Then, with a sigh, he looked back at the two middle daughters, who were now looking incredibly guilty, the façade of innocence doing nothing to better their situation.
“Bucket, mop, both of you, now,” Cloud ordered, his voice stern as he looked down at the two filthy children.
“But we are still covered in paint!” Jade pointed out, pointing to the red footprints behind her.
Knowing they were right, Cloud sighed as he scooped them up and headed for the nearest bathroom. He was fully aware that his clothes would now be joining theirs in the wash but figured it was the better alternative than having to mop more of the house.
“… You are both grounded,” Cloud announced to their combined despair as both girls began to bluster and whine at the unfairness of it all.
And all of this happened to the background noise of his wife’s sadistic amusement.
A.N.
Salutations all,
Another chapter finally posted. It would have been done sooner had I not encountered significant technical difficulties. Oh, not with my computer. No, I can usually handle such a thing.
Storms causing the power not to work… well, that’s somewhat different.
The electrician that came by was straight-stumped; that is not a pleasant feeling when the blood sparky doesn’t even know what’s up. It turns out water can run downhill but magically up pipes.
If that explanation means anything to anyone of you, congratulations, you are smarter than me.
Now about the actual chapter, Jaune will begin this ancient rite, and I hope I made the reason he wants to clear. Despite his sister’s advice, Jaune still struggles significantly with connectivity.
He desires, above all else, to feel connected with his family, to relate to them, to feel like he is a part of them.
So ancient tribulations that his ancestors have undertaken for generations. A trial that requires nothing more than a display of one’s survival ability. Doesn’t that sound perfect?
Also, I sprinkled a touch of foreshadowing and intrigue in this chapter amongst all the knowledge on Jaune’s perceptible skills. So those of you who realise what portion of Bloodborne we are approaching in Jaune’s dreams might realise what is coming.
If so, shh, no spoilers.
We will end this here before I risk the power shitting itself again.
I hope you all continue to enjoy my work.
Fair weather to you all.
And as always.
Until next time.
Comments
SkeletalPheonix Games
Oh boy, I can't wait to what's gonna happen, its gonna be great
