G.N. Chapter 18 (Patreon)

Hey all new chapter and will also soon be posting an personal update and a poll!

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Chapter 18 Peace by Piece

Many, many things about Yharnam still confused Jaune.

The mysteries of this city beset by mayhem were numerous, and Jaune found himself dedicating a not insignificant amount of time to puzzling out these obscurities. He usually found his mind absorbed by topics concerning the plague or, more frighteningly, the matter of the church.

But not this time.

When he had awoken to the concerned crooning of the Messengers, he had done his best to piece together the fragments left over from his last moments before death, only for his confusion to multiply instead.

He had been sure a Lamp was mere feet from his form… but that was impossible. There were only two Lamp in Central Yharnam, the first was adjacent to Gilbert’s abode, and the other had appeared atop the Great Bridge after the Cleric Beast was felled. But somehow, his addled mind had seen something impossible, a Lamp that had no right to exist and while he was mostly sure it had been a hallucination spawned by blood loss…

Could he afford not to confirm it?

“Three shots… no vials… not much to lose, I suppose,” Jaune grumbled, rising to stand as the Messengers continued to observe him. “Wish me luck, gents,” Jaune nodded at the Messengers, bidding them adieu for now.

With the incomprehensible moaning of the little critters at his back, Jaune wandered in the entirely wrong direction. Away from Central Yharnam and the sewers, he should be traversing and instead towards somewhere else.

Relying on the fragments his mind managed to retain from those last few confusing minutes before he had succumbed, he tried his best to find where he had perished. Manoeuvring down the embossed steel of a ladder, he found himself already drawing his sword before his feet even touched the ground below.

No sooner than his detachment from the side of the building was he attacked by three of the city’s residents, all of them succumbing to his blade as he took them apart with his silver sword. With his body unburdened by extensive trauma and exhaustion, three regular residents were no longer a threat to a Hunter who had imbibed in the power of the Blood.

They were mere meat before him, but their attack did spark something within him.

A memory.

A sword atop a mantle.

A man larger than life and stronger than a giant.

A soothing woman, quiet and ever-present, always close by.

A mother and a father, an ancestral sword.

“I wonder… mum, dad…” Jaune whispered, his memory hazy, the picture of his parents slipping through his fingers like the finest sand as he tried his best to grasp onto it. His frustrations began to mount as he struggled to recall more about his home and picture his family. “Scarlett, Saphron… Ja-“

“Owargh!”

Startled, Jaune pivoted on the spot; his blade raised to the ready, but instead of an enemy, he found the peculiar sight of a very confident-looking Messenger pointing at him boldly. One of its eyes was hidden under smooth flesh, while the other appeared narrowed and accusing; the flesh of its top lip was missing revealing its teeth and gums for all to see. “Ragwaag!”

“… Yes, can I help you?” Jaune replied, looking perturbed.

Rather than another verbal response, the Messenger proceeded to thump the body it was next to, the form of another dead Yharno as inconspicuous as the many crates that littered the streets of this city of madness. Jaune, having learned to go with the flow concerning the messengers, crouched beside the corpse and looked at the messenger expectantly. “Well…”

A single pointing finger jutted towards the dead man’s coat.

“… You expect me to believe that this random dead guy has got something on him? Fine then,” Jaune uttered, disbelieving. But upon closer inspection, Jaune realised that the Messenger’s words might have carried some merit.

The corpse was far more put together than most of the bodies that littered the streets, a good cap, good shoes a quality jacket. Whomever the man once was, he was a person who could afford to dress well. Pulling the man's jacket to the side, Jaune let out a drawn-out curse as he beheld with disbelief something he had desperately needed not too long ago.

“Blood Vials! Right here! But didn’t I die…” Peering over his shoulder accusingly, Jaune was overcome with a fresh wave of frustration. “Dammit!” Jaune snarled, sending his fist into the cobble street.

“Werugh!”

“I know!” Jaune groused back, again filling in the blanks of the Messenger’s speech in his head. Then, as if to prove him wrong, the one-eyed messenger pointed to the well-dressed corpse’s coat instead.

“… Was it you?” Jaune whispered, getting off the ground and peering at the unique messenger curiously.

“Lurrnm!” the little creature groaned aggressively, crossing its twig-like arms.

“You must have been what I saw… you were trying to get me to the Blood vials,” Jaune realised, moving back over to the well-dressed corpse and looting the Blood Vials from its coat.

“Yeaurgh!”

“… Thankyou… I am sorry I could not take advantage of your aide before,” Jaune apologised, kneeling and bowing his head to the helpful Messenger.

“… Urgh… Moouuorr,”

“Well… I suppose this solves one mystery,” Jaune huffed, tucking his new Blood Vials away securely.

With his mission accomplished, Jaune was about to climb back up the ladder and continue his quest to traverse the sewers but found himself pausing. His eyes looked to the embossed steel, his hands ran across the textured metal, and he stepped back. Then, looking around, his gaze dancing over the edge and into the sky above, he was suddenly struck by an alien thought.

“Why don’t I remember?” Jaune spoke aloud.

“Urgh?”

“I have been here… I know I have been here, but I don’t remember,” Jaune iterated, his eyes awash with suspicion, his blue orbs coming to rest on the one-eyed messenger that just stared right back.

“Where… where did I first… I don’t,” Jaune began to ramble, his words trailing off as he began to feel deed seeded concern at the gaps in his memory.

“Wagh!” The Messenger exploded its tinny balled fists bashing against Jaune’s leg as it tried desperately to garner his attention. Jaune was pulled from his panic and looked at the little creature that began gesturing at a building further down the street, its whole body swaying as it tugged on his pants.

Jaune gulped, licking his lips before stuttering, “o-over there?”

“Orgh!”

Jaune peered at the building in question and felt the obscure nostalgia appear within his thoughts once more. Then, steeling himself, he nodded before marching onwards, intent on getting to the bottom of this strange lapse in his memories.

As for the one-eyed messenger, it watched its Hunter stride off with no small amount of pride. It had managed to provide its most precious Hunter with guidance. It could only hope it would be presented with an opportunity to do so again…

After all, the night was young, and they would not falter in their service.

Their great Hunter deserved nothing less.

YVYVYVYVY

The first morning in his new camp was peaceful; the forest had already come alive with the sounds of birds and insects all rising to greet the new day. Jaune was just like them as he crawled out from his new den, his tall form stretching in the warm sun. Fresh from a good night’s rest, his eyes peered across the clearing where he had decided to make his home looking for anything he might have missed.

But, it was just as he had seen it the previous evening, with the forest pulling back from the lone tree that made up the centre of the clearing. There was space, not too much undergrowth, and Jaune could see much use for the area; it would save him from having to clear out more of the forest for what he had in mind.

With his plans set, he nodded his head before getting straight to work, remembering well how his father had imparted to him the importance of not delaying. When in a survival situation, it is crucial that you make the most of the time you have available; this is even more true for those in untenable situations.

As of this point, Jaune needed to improve in almost all necessary categories for his survival. He had shelter, but it was lacking and more concerning; he was still unsure whether it was waterproof. And while he had water nearby, he would still prefer access to it more readily. Food was still entirely up to the winds of fate, but he was confident he would manage; his goal for the day was far more rudimentary.

The fabrication of some tools.

Under his father’s tutelage, Jaune found himself quite capable of crafting essential tools necessary to conquer the wilderness of Sanus. From axes to spears, Jaune was confident in crafting what he needed. Thus, his aim for his first day would be to acquire a usable stone axe, as it would make everything else much simpler going forward.

But before he could do any of that, he had to do something he had been putting off until he found an area to make his own. Reaching into his den, he pulled out his mother’s boon, the tiny bright green shoot having grown into a small but healthy bamboo plant. His mother had undoubtedly been telling the truth when she boasted about its incredible growth rate; even being limited to a paper bag had not been enough to hamper it.

Moving to the edge of the clearing where the undergrowth was more plentiful, Jaune cleared a swath away. In time he would most likely clear a larger space or even multiple plots if he came across a suitable plant worth farming. But for now, it would not do to let the bamboo his mother had gifted him spread unchecked, plus it would be a good test to see if it could spread into the clearing, unlike the native plants.

With the tiny plant now secure in the ground and without the pressure of other pants to hinder its growth Jaune was excited to see how it would fair. “Grow strong… I will do my best to help,” Jaune whispered to the tiny plant, a feeling of uncertainty settling on him.

Jaune was talented in many, many things.

Nurturing something was not one of them.

With that done, Jaune kicked the cleared foliage into the clearing; it would be used as fuel for later. Then, with a whistle, he alerted Orr to the fact that he was about to begin moving, and by the time he heard her response, he was already on the move. His first stop was the river.

It would be a good source of stones and allow him to bathe.

It had been three days since he had the opportunity to do such, and he could not afford to reek for what he had planned.

Prey tended to be very sensitive to such things.

YVYVYVYVY

Orr Flamberge was an experienced Huntress, a graduate of Beacon Academy and someone who loved what they did. She was an adventurer at heart and lived her life accordingly, having travelled to every corner of the world and visited every single nation at least twice, including Menagerie.

She lived for the thrills and the wonder that came with fresh new experiences and had undertaken missions from covert ops to survey escorts. She had damn well near done it all, just like her grandfather before her.

But her current mission might be the strangest one she had ever done.

Naturally, Orr had undertaken bodyguard details before; they were pretty standard as the extremely wealthy loved to wave around Huntsman bodyguards. But then, this wasn’t like any protection detail she had ever run. She honestly felt like one of those documentary reporter people with how she was made to observe and not interfere.

‘Well, except for when I dohave to interfere.’

Truthfully the mission shouldn’t be that strange. In many ways, it reminded her of the archaeological and research escort missions Cloud adored. Her boss, the massive nerd, had dragged her on them several times before Hella showed him the epic wonders of not being a nerd.

But then those had been missions where she protected civilians scared by a strong breeze. She always needed to reassure them of their safety and interact with them to keep their morale up so they didn’t get swarmed. Those missions always seemed to test her, and they were never as smooth as they could be.

Jaune was nothing like that.

Maybe that was what made things a touch… boring.

There hadn’t even been any Grimm.

She didn’t know what the twins did to clear this area, but whatever it was, it was effective. It had made sense that they wouldn’t encounter anything while they were moving, the kid was practically a track star with the speeds he maintained, but she had figured that would change when they got set up.

But nope, not so much as a stray Nevermore.

She was forced to do nothing, and as if to spite her, the literal child she was watching over was working himself to the bone. When he set up camp, she thought he might start to take things easy, especially since he had been hoofing it for three days at an impressive speed. But she had been dead wrong.

It must be mighty comfortable under that weird tree of his because when he crawled out, he had gotten to work right away, first planting that gift his mum gave him before darting over to the nearby creek.

She watched him walk into that icy water without a shiver.

The kid had bathed quickly, washing himself and his clothes before scrounging about for stones in his skivvies. He spent a couple of hours by the water grinding one stone in particular, only pausing at one point to dive into the water.

At first, Orr had found this sudden action absurdly funny; watching the kid go from looking like a hunched-over toad to an airborne eel was amusing. After all, the kid had been hunched for nearly an hour when he suddenly leapt into the air like a jack in the box. Her humour carried on for roughly three more minutes.

Then it died a slow death as Orr tried to remember how long the average person could hold their breath for.

Her mind slowly devolved as she tried to remember what was considered normal or if normal even applied to someone like Jaune. The boy had displayed incredible physical prowess and was trained by his mother, and so was he ‘normal’.

Time kept ticking, and Orr’s anxiety only grew exponentially.

Her thoughts were a vicious debate about whether or not she should interfere, as on one side, she didn’t want to ruin this for the kid because Cloud had made sure to impart how important this was to him. But, on the other hand, Hella was a prolific and world-renowned Huntress explicitly known for her abilities as a Headhunter, and Orr liked her head right where it was.

Rushing to the water’s edge, Orr called out to see if that would get Jaune to resurface, but despite her bellows, the cool water remained placid. She was in a full-blown panic now, her mind conjuring up nightmarish visions of him being attacked by a gator or perhaps being hooked on something or even a Grimm. Orr only waited for a few more heartbeats before letting rip a foul curse as she began to dash into the water to retrieve the kid.

It was, of course, then that Jaune surfaced.

Rather than an explosion of water and desperate gasping, he practically strode out of the water as if he was semiaquatic. Looking like he had gone for a lazy swim, Jaune seemed especially surprised to see Orr rush toward him, asking whether he was ok.

“Why were you down there so long? Did you get caught on something? Are you all right!” Orr hollered at the dripping boy.

“Mhm, I saw a fish,” Jaune replied calmly.

Orr looked down at the boys’ hands and found him carrying a massive trout, the fish still flailing in his grip. “You saw a fish….”

“Yes, I haven’t eaten yet, and I don’t have a spear or a rod yet, so… had to improvise,” Jaune shrugged, walking up onto the shore.

“You were down there for a while; you sure you’re ok?” Orr asked again, hoping the kid wasn’t being this obtuse due to a lack of oxygen reaching his brain.

“I am in perfect health, I assure you. Holding my breath for that long was a simple matter… I probably could have stayed down much longer,” Jaune admitted, his voice gaining a strange undertone at his admittance.

“You were down there for over ten minutes!” Orr exclaimed.

“Is that strange?”

“I… I don’t know to be honest….” Orr admitted slumping.

“Hmm… I remember reading that a clan of fisherman up near Vytal can hold their breath for nearly twenty, and certain Faunus can do much more,” Jaune commented, moving back over to his rocks.

“Oh… guess I kinda freaked out over nothing then,” Orr mumbled.

“… I don’t believe that is an accurate statement… It was probably for the best that you erred on the side of caution; after all, you are supposed to safeguard my life, and I did disappear without warning,” Jaune elucidated while tending to his freshly caught fish, killing and gutting it out of Orr’s sight.

Orr chewed on this information momentarily, the sound of running water and Jaune’s ministrations being the only audible thing as she got her thoughts in order. She began to speak only once she was sure, “I think from now on… you and I should probably communicate some more.”

Rather than respond verbally, Jaune stopped working on his fish and looked over his shoulder with a quirked brow.

“In the rules, it states that I cannot give you any aid whatsoever save in cases where it is done to preserve your life or due to the interference of Grimm or outside forces,” Orr continued moving to sit beside Jaune, the boy’s eyes following her the whole time.

“But the truth is, I haven’t done something like this before; most of my protection jobs have involved me interfering a lot… like a lot. So going forward, how would you feel if we… ran things by each other, like not tips or stuff that breaks the rules but like… just a bit more than the whistles, ok?” Orr enquired, her hand scratching along the length of the scar above her temple.

“I do not want to invalidate or in some way disgrace the trial, but as you are the overseer, the rite binds me to obey your decrees, so please elaborate on what you mean by ‘more’,” Jaune requested his hands a blur as he jerked the guts of the fish free from its body.

“Nah, that’s fair… I don’t want to do nothing like that, but having an idea of what you have planned for the day would help me scout the area easier and be able to better keep track of you,” Orr laid out as she began to skip stones across the water.

“I do not see how doing this could aid me, so I accept. Was there anything else?” Jaune asked, his voice calm as he hurled fish guts back into the water.

“Yeah, do me a favour, give me a heads up before you do something that takes you out of my sight,” Orr groused, her scarred visage frowning.

“… Will do,” Jaune nodded, bowing his head for half a second.

“For the sake of safety… if I have to leave you for an extended period, I will come notify you. Of course, I shouldn’t have to do it often, but if I do, I would rather you be forewarned,” she said, her next stone clearing the water to the opposite shore.

A quiet settled over the two momentarily before Jaune sniffed and rose to stand his tall form towering over the sitting, Orr. “I will most likely be spending the rest of the day cooking my fish and bettering my camp… the stones I have gathered will suffice for now, and the rest of the stuff I need is near my camp.”

Orr squinted at the blond before grinning and hopping to her feet in a single movement. “Well, in that case, I will be around,” and with that said, Orr turned about and began making her way back into the forest but paused at the edge.

“Oh, and Jaune,” she called back, turning to face her boss’s son with a devilish smirk. “For future reference, probably not the best idea to stand up in front of a girl if you are just wearing ya briefs.”

With her last teasing jab spoken, Orr disappeared back into the greenery, cackling gleefully; meanwhile, Jaune went about gathering his things.

With a quirked little smile and a warm pair of ears while he did so.

YVYVYVYVY

Time seemed to race by for Jaune.

The hours of his day slipped by with unrecognisable haste in the wake of his dedicated efforts. It felt like it all moved in a blur; before he knew it, darkness had overtaken the world again, and he was forced to turn in. But Jaune did not go to bed disappointed, for his work had indeed bared fruit in the form of a handful of tools.

First was a stone chisel, it was rough, and Jaune already knew he wanted to give it a handle for superior grip, but it served him well in aiding in creating his second tool. A simple stone axe, the head of which was another stone he had retrieved from the river and ground to give it a slight edge. While not as sharp as more modern axes, its wedge-like shape would still perform well at helping him cut down trees.

His third tool was the least impressive as he did nothing to modify it as he had with the chisel and axe. Although it was a simple hand size stone, it was sturdy and without fault; he had collected it to use as his knapping stone.

Unfortunately, his luck seemed to take a rather steep plummet. Jaune intended for his last stone to become a small knife, as a cutting tool would greatly aid him. But the knife was not to be as when Jaune had begun knapping the stone; it turned out to have a rather major fault that ruined his final product.

But the production of these tools, mainly his axe, was not without cost; taking up most of his day, Jaune could only craft one final item before the evening robbed the day of its light. So the last thing he prepared was a small sharpened stick with a flat wedge-like head but a tapered handle. It would serve as a temporary spade.

With this, Jaune retired to his den, using his travelling cloak to keep himself warm as he rested beneath the earth. But despite his drowsiness, his mind continued churning as he thought more about what he needed to do. Which resources needed to be gathered, what things needed to be constructed, what tools he would craft, what improvements he could make to his den…

When he awoke, he did not even remember falling asleep.

Jaune was overcome with a grounded serenity as he exited his hole in the ground. He had not dreamt that night, his mind too occupied to conjure forth the horrors in his memories. A calm dreamless sleep was a treat, but Jaune could not afford to linger on it. There was work to be done.

Especially since there were clouds in the sky.

The sight of those fluffy shapes drifting in the morning sky reminded Jaune of the oncoming storms. Jaune looked to his den and decided that today would be wholly dedicated to preparing it for the coming rain.

Luckily he knew just what to do.

Armed with the wedged-tipped stick, Jaune spent the early morning hollowing out the space of his den. He was quick and methodical, focusing most of his attention on the floor to not disturb the root system supporting the tree. It took a lot of work, and by the time he was done, his simple stick was far blunter than when he began, but the results were worth it.

His den was now spacious enough that he could sit upright without his head touching the ceiling. Additionally, it was a few centimetres wider, a slight improvement, but the extra space was a wellspring of inspiration.

With the den space increased, Jaune knew that his next improvement had to be warming his sleeping area. A simple desire for comfort did not bring about this idea; Jaune had little time for such stray thinking. With the coming storms, Jaune knew that the nights would worsen, the temperature dropping even lower. If he was also to get wet himself, his very life might be in peril.

While he might not be a stranger to the clawing cold, that did not mean he had any desire to reintroduce himself to it.

Hence Jaune would build himself a fireplace.

The very idea was enough to spark a sense of comfort in his bones, eliciting memories of the Doll offering him a tea he could not recall the taste of. Both instructional and some strangely fictional books granting his blood-soaked eyes a blessed reprieve. The sound of warm flames gnawing at old wood, scented smoke breathing warmth into a messy workshop.

Yes, a fireplace was a must.

… He would need clay.

YVYVYVYVY

People-watching was supposedly a hobby.

Orr didn’t get it. She struggled to fathom the idea that someone could draw amusement from watching random strangers go about their day. Even when she was watching the kid, she was not free from boredom, and Jaune wasn’t exactly doing mundane stuff.

If anything watching the kid was making her want to jump in; sitting on the sidelines was getting to her.

The most excitement she had was when the brat ran up to her tree to notify her that he was heading to the creek to gather some more stones and clay. That spooked her a bit because she had thought she was an ‘unseen’ watcher up until then. But moments like that went a long way to reinforce that the kid was definitely Hella’s son.

Naturally, she followed him to the creak; boredom would not make her fail in her duties. So she watched as he found some old fallen log and used it as a makeshift tray. Pretty smart as it was wide enough to carry quite a bit, and lucky that it wasn’t rotten through.

He grabbed an assortment of rocks, piling them up away from the water before he moved upstream. There he filled the half-log with as much clay as he could before darting back to his camp.

The whole time he was doing all this, Orr couldn’t help but recall that it was on an empty stomach. But if such a thing bothered him, he sure didn’t show it; it was the polar opposite; the kid was a quirky little ray of sunshine.

Covered in mud and clay, his hair slicked back with the same substances and kneeling in the dirt as he built a chimney, Jaune was wearing the purest smile Orr had ever seen. It was so endearing that Orr wanted to join him; it reminded her of what it was like when she was younger and would join her grandpa building sand forts.

Or that time, they raided Beacon’s kitchen.

“Dumb place for a chimney….” Orr chuckled, remembering her and the old man hurling wet sponges at each other afterwards as they were forced to clean the whole cafeteria.

Orr’s laughter must have been louder than she thought because Jaune looked up at her with an owl-like expression, head tilting ever so slightly as he gazed at her quizzically. Then, with a curse, Orr waved back, secretly annoyed that he had found her again.

“Ms Orr!” the kid hollered, waving his arms to beckon her down. Remembering their talk about communicating more, Orr quickly jumped, strolling over to the mud-covered child.

“Sup sprout,” Orr greeted.

“I just wanted to let you know that I am probably going to head over to the creek soon to get some dinner,” Jaune replied, placing one last stone atop his chimney and capping it.

While first confused, Orr quickly realised that Jaune had left spaces for the smoke to disperse on the sides. He would also dissipate the heat by capping the top, preventing it from shooting straight into the tree’s branches.

“Huh, nice design sprout,” Orr complimented, stretching her limbs; she might have been sitting too long, judging by the audible pops.

“Thank you… why do you keep calling me that?” Jaune queried, patting a bit more clay onto the chimney structure.

“Cause you are one tall ass kid,” Orr replied blandly, bending over to peek into the kid’s sleeping area. The brat clearly wasn’t claustrophobic.

“… I see,” Jaune commented, dusting off his hands as he rose to stand, that same relaxed smile on his features as he patted the dirt off his body.

Orr couldn’t help but comment on the oddity, “ya’know, kiddo, you are gonna grow up to be a real lady killer with a smile like that,” Orr teased, slapping Jaune on the back. She was surprised the kid didn’t budge an inch, but then again, he went toe to toe with his mother regularly, so that wasn’t too strange.

“Smile?” Jaune uttered, voicing his confusion as he looked at her strangely.

“Yeah, you’ve been smiling for a while now, didn’t you notice?” Orr snorted, pointing at his face.

Slowly Jaune brought his still clay-coated hand up to his face, his finger trailing over his raised cheeks, leaving a light smear behind as he did. Orr watched as that smile disappeared like smoke in a strong breeze, his usual stoic countenance taking its place. ‘He has got one solid poker face,’ Orr thought idly.

“… How curious,” the boy admired, his eye widening as he came to some epiphany.

“Yeah, sure… whatever, are you gonna go fishing or what? It’s gonna get dark soon,” Orr observed, walking past the clay-coated child.

“Hmm, of course, one moment,” he replied, slipping into his den for a handful of seconds before he exited toting a simple spear. It had no head and was nothing more than a straight, sharpened stick, but with a pointed tip, it would undoubtedly fulfil its function.

“Let’s go,” Jaune cheered demurely, making his way to the creek.

YVYVYVYVY

Jaune had been right to make a spear.

When next he dove into the creek, he had managed to leave with not one but two fish, snagging one with his hand and impaling the other one with his spear. This time when he exited the water, Orr was far more calm, sitting patiently atop a rock fiddling with her Scroll.

Jaune observed her with one eye as he went about prepping his fish, only taking his eyes off her when he realised that he had foolishly forgotten to bring a cutting tool. “Kos preserve me… I’m better than this….”

With a sigh, Jaune picked up the bass first, the fish he had killed with his spear, drawing it up to his mouth where he used his teeth to split its stomach, spitting out its watery blood as he began to pull out its guts. Despite spitting, he could still taste the tang of the blood in his mouth, it was thankfully not as pungent as he was used to, but it still caused his mind to swim for a moment.

“What the fuck….” Orr breathed, having seen what Jaune just did and being very confused.

“Forgot to bring a cutting stone,” Jaune spoke without looking back, tearing free the fish’s gills before splashing it in the water a few times to wash it properly.

“… Are you a Faunus or something?” Orr asked, moving to crouch beside Jaune.

“No,” Jaune answered honestly, hurling the fish guts back into the water. It’s a shame they weren’t more north, or he could use them as bait for some lizards of crustaceans.

“Do it again,” Orr ordered, her face inches from Jaune’s, her red eyes staring at him with curious energy.

“Pardon?”

“Do it again! With your teeth, I have never seen that before,” Orr eagerly requested.

Jaune truthfully didn’t see the appeal as it left a foul sweetness in his mouth, but he would have to anyway, so he obeyed. This time, he grabbed the trout, braining the fish to ensure it was dead before lifting it to his mouth and using his teeth and a sideways jerk to split its belly open.

Just as he had with the bass, he quickly spat to try and keep the taste of the fish's fresh blood from lingering in his mouth, but again he failed. Then, with a disgusted groan, he quickly began to disembowel and clean the fish, all while scraping his tongue across his teeth.

“Wow! You make that look so easy. But, hey, open up, let me see them pearly whites,” Orr demanded, her features now outright amazed. Without taking his eyes off his fish, Jaune turned his head to the side and showed his teeth to Orr, thinking nothing of the request.

However, he was not expecting Orr to grab his cheeks and yank his head forward suddenly, and it was only thanks to his reflexes that he didn’t drop his fish.

“Hey!” Jaune complained, his words skewed by Orr prying his lips apart.

“Oh hush, I am just making sure you weren’t lying to me… damn, they are just human-looking teeth….” Orr breathed, finding nothing of note about Jaune’s teeth, specifically his canines which were not enlarged or oddly shaped.

Jaune wanting to finish prepping his fish, yanked back his head, shooting Orr a sour look, “I just said I wasn’t a Faunus.”

“Yeah, but your teeth sliced through that thing like it was nothing,” Orr shrugged, excusing her disbelief.

“… It’s a fish, not an armadillo,” Jaune rebutted, displaying the soft flesh of his future dinner.

“Huh, is it really that easy?” Orr wondered.

“See for yourself. Go catch your own,” Jaune spoke, waving to the creek as he crawled over to his clothes, freshly scrubbed with some smooth river rocks.

“Nah, I’m good,” Orr shrugged, moving away from the water and taking something out of her pockets. “I got ration bars, they taste like cardboard, but they fill ya right up,” She explained, tossing the silver-wrapped bar up before sliding it back into her pocket.

Jaune shrugged as ultimately he had faith that Orr could more than take care of herself, so gathering his wet clothes and spearing his fish, he began to trek back to his camp.

YVYVYVYVY

Besides a twisted lonesome tree, Orr lay spread eagle, her eyes staring intently at the shattered moon above. Jaune had already scampered off to bed, and Orr was using the opportunity to enjoy the campfire comfort by her lonesome. Her mind was presently turning over the ‘issue’ of her not so much as seeing a single Grimm.

Turning her head away from the maimed heavens to stare at the fire instead, Orr could not help but let her thoughts slip out. “I don’t like this…” she whispered into the flames, her words smothered by the campfire’s noise.

She didn’t know what to make of it. True, it was only her and the kid out here, and the area was swept a week prior, but for there to be zero Grimm presence. It didn’t sit right with her; the wilds of Remnant were not meant to be calm. They were meant to be a bloody death sentence.

Orr was shaken from her musings as her stomach rumbled again, a pitiful sigh following the noise as Orr’s frustration grew. She was Huntress, a god’s damned killer, a certified professional at ‘fucking your shit up’.

And here she was, losing to a fish.

She groaned into her arms, “Stupid sprout, you are meant to be enduring a challenge here, dammit!”

The brat was defiantly Cloud’s; little twerp had finished his first fish only to declare that he was full suddenly. Then, without fanfare or warning, he went straight back into his hole, leaving behind a perfectly prepared fish, steaming and begging to be eaten.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

“… Urgh! Brothers, take me,” Orr growled, snatching up the trout and biting into it.

It wasn’t special; it was fresh fish cooked over a fire, didn’t even have any salt or spices.

But compared to her rations…

Orr devoured the meal, the hot juices caking her mouth as she tore into the fish’s flaky white meat. She didn’t stop until all that remained were picked clean bones that she hurriedly tossed into the fire.

Quickly dusting herself off, Orr made haste to be away from the scene of her ‘shame’ and promptly hurried to where she would be spending her night. Nestled in the crook of a tall branch, her mind ruminated on the absurdity of the kid giving up food in a survival challenge.

“Stupid sprout…” she said to the empty night, looking at the entrance to the kid’s underground den.

“… But also pretty cool.”

YVYVYVYVY

He stood beneath a stone arch, his eyes squinting accusingly at the sight before him.

A circular courtyard, with islands of dead trees and headstones, grave tufts of sickly grass shooting up along path sections that had long since fallen into disrepair. There was a sense of decrepitness to the outdoor area, a sense of ruin, of abandonment.

Walking down the stairs, he did not let his awareness dull for a second. He could not afford to with the limited supplies he had available. But even more so, he doubted he could relax with the absurd and prolonged sense of recognition that was actively upsetting him.

The powerful scent of blood in the nearby building wasn’t helping either.

It was a curiosity that in a city all but drowning in death, with gutters clogged with bloody meat, rotting corpses of man and beast alike blocking the streets and alleys littered with fresh murders… that Jaune could still differentiate the many aromas of blood.

And they were indeed many.

He walked towards the door, his eyes looking for anything distinguishable, his hand already wrapped about his silver blade while his other rested on his pistol. The door was open, and from within, the scent of blood was amongst the most pungent he had encountered. It seemed to physically crawl over his face and up his nose.

With a shake of his head and a mighty snort, he wrestled back the security of his mind, his grip tightening about the hilt of his blade. He crossed the threshold, his breath steady as the stairs creaked beneath his careful steps. The first room he entered was dark; faint flames from the chandelier above did little to beat back the shadows.

But they revealed enough.

Shelves stacked with labelled bottles, papers, and boxes and the smell of rubbing alcohol and desiccated plants clung to them all. Then, finally, his eye came to a corpse, relatively clean, well-dressed, with clothes in good condition and body already cold.

A quick examination revealed a broken neck and pale glassy eyes.

Remembering the frustration of the one-eyed messenger, Jaune peeled back his jacket and found two more blood vials in pristine condition. It seemed the little one had been right to admonish him; he would have to be more aware of the fallen as he went forward.

‘I wonder…’

Moving back from the corpse, Jaune quickly inspected the shelves but found them loaded with unfamiliar medication. Unfortunately, the labels were of no help. Some were smeared, and others aged, causing Jaune to dismiss them.

Moving to the doorway to the next room, he had to resist the urge to scratch his nose; the room was drowning in blood.

Peeking around the corner, Jaune did not have to look far to find the source. Illuminated by a single light source, Jaune beheld a bloody scene, two corpses, one dry and cool, the other still wet with the slickness of blood that clung to exposed bone and torn flesh.

Stepping carefully, Jaune examined the scene, cracked floorboards, spilt medical tools, a literal pool of blood, chains and canisters holding sanguine fluid. Looking at what surrounded the scene revealed medical tables made of cold metal centred betwixt a stool and a stand. The seat carried more operation equipment and tonics while the stands held more of the same ominous canisters.

Jaune stepped over the still blood, his head on a swivel as he double-checked the room for danger but found none. Then, seeing it was safe, he investigated the tables, drawn in by… a smell. Bottles of alcohol, saline, and dye were all held atop the tiny wooden stools alongside scalpels, forceps and scissors.

Simple medical tools, but they made Jaune nervous.

Reaching for the stand, he unclipped the canister attached to one of its limbs, a fair shake revealing it empty. He brought it to his nose lowering his cowl to take a whiff.

Blood. The Blood. He knew its scent well.

He placed the empty canister on the table and let out a throaty rumble as his frustrations surged. He knew something. But he did not yet know what he knew.

‘Is this madness?’ Jaune thought furiously, looking for more clues to solve the puzzle he could not yet see.

*Cr-eak*

Jaune froze, appearing almost petrified in his stillness as he registered what he had just heard.

The soft, stuttered creaking of a floorboard.

Indicative of a singular hesitant step.

A step he didn’t make.

With as much stealth as he could wield, Jaune twisted and began to prowl into the darkness, the shadows of this blood-stained clinic shrouding him as much as his coat did. He held his sword up near his chest, ready to act defensively.

He came across another door also open. Jaune spotted light from within and shifted his grip as he approached. He moved quickly until he was aside the door frame, his head peeking around the edge.

What he saw shocked him.

A Lamp.

An innocent, solitary Lamp positioned in the room as plain as day.

Jaune was stunned silent but quickly regained his bearings as he remembered the creaking noise. His thoughts dipped to the Messengers for a moment before being cast aside. The Messengers did not walk.

The Lamp room was otherwise empty, but Jaune saw it connected to a stairway. Moving briskly through the illuminated chamber, he made haste to the shadowed stairs, his steps light as he ascended. Atop the stairs was another door; this one was closed. However, Jaune felt that oddness from before afflict him anew as he moved closer to that closed room.

He reached it with ease, something urging him on.

He gripped the handle, ready to put his mind to rest to ease that pressing need.

But it was locked.

He tried again.

It did not budge.

A growl slipped from his mouth as he violently shook the handle in frustration, a curse booming from his mouth.

“Dammit!” he bellowed, kicking the door.

“Please stop!”

A panicked feminine exploded from behind the door, the sound almost physically striking Jaune as he released the doorknob and backed away, shocked.

Silence reigned for a moment as Jaune stared at the door in surprise. He watched as a figure crept to the opposite side of the door, and a curious eye peeked out, observing him. “Are you… out on the hunt?” The woman nervously enquired.

Still affected by his own surprise, Jaune stumbled over his words as he responded, “Wha- oh, ahh, ye-yes… sorry, I mean yes, I am.”

“Then I’m very sorry, but… I cannot open this door,” the woman spoke emphatically but not without hesitation, still obviously bothered by Jaune’s earlier aggression. Embarrassed by his earlier behaviour, Jaune did not stalk, still trying to regain his faculties and internally berating himself for acting like a maddened beast.

“… I am Iosefka,” the woman spoke, introducing herself and ending Jaune’s internal rebuking.

“Oh! I am Jaune, a Hunter,” Jaune quickly introduced, performing a polite bow and doing his best to present himself in a better light. “And if you do not mind my asking, why is it that you cannot open the door?”

“The patients here in my clinic must not be exposed to infection. I know that you hunt for us, for our town, but I’m sorry. Please.” Iosefka entreated before a rustling was heard. “This is all that I can do,” she explained as she slid through one of the broken panes, a Blood Vial.

Seeing the advantageous offering, Jaune found his hand moving before he realised. “Oh, my thanks,” he uttered, examining the vial, noting that it was slightly different from other Vials he had accumulated. ‘Best to store it separately,’ he thought, placing it within his coat instead of his belt.

“Now, go,” Iosefka urged, stepping back from the door before hurriedly speaking once more, “and good hunting.”

Neither moved away.

Jaune could still hear her breathing from the other side of the door; no doubt she was waiting for him to depart. A part of Jaune wanted to. He had no desire to harry a seemingly polite and sane member of the Yharnam populace but another part of him…

Another part of him wanted desperately to bypass the door for some reason.

He knew that what he should know was there.

With remorse, he lifted his hand and rapped it upon the locked door, trying not to grimace as he heard Iosefka’s breath hitch. Undoubtedly, the poor woman still believed him to be just another rabid Yharno driven mad by the hunt.

“Are you still in need of something?” She questioned quickly.

“Yes, I apologise but-“

“But I have nothing more to offer. Please, try to understand my position. I can only pray for a fruitful hunt.” She pleaded once more, ensuring Jaune would need to kick himself later as he caused this polite woman more undue stress.

“I understand, Miss, and I assure you that I do not wish to take anything more from you but… but I am searching for something you see.” Jaune tried to explain without sounding like someone who had lost complete control of their faculties.

“And you think it to be here?”

“Yes, you see I… I underwent a procedure here, I believe… and I was wondering if there might be anything of note I… I remember this clinic… the smell…” Jaune knew his words sounded strange.

They sounded flimsy to his own ears.

“Here? You believe you underwent Blood Ministration here?” Iosefka queried, her voice sounding sceptical.

“Yes! That was it, a Ministration, it was in the room beyond this door and, and… a man’s voice… I signed a contract! My name should be on said contract, no?” Jaune rambled elatedly as he put the pieces back together.

Iosefka went silent; only the sounds of her breathing could be heard. Jaune was worried his rambling had frightened her even worse before she spoke up again. “I will… I will check and see if there is anything… out of sorts. Please wait here for a moment.”

Jaune wanted to jump for joy as he heard her walk away from the door.

Hope welled within him as he tried to piece all his thoughts together, wondering what clue would make these fragments add up. A strange sense of recognition as he remembered the feel of a needle injected into one of his veins. He recalled the sound of droplets splashing methodically, of heavy drowsiness pulling him unconscious.

A voice… he recalled a man’s voice discussing with him… something… something important, but Jaune could not remember what. Jaune stiffened as he heard Iosefka’s returning steps, his back going rigid as he waited anxiously for her findings.

“I could not find any trace of a contract, but… one of the tables has been used recently; I also found a most peculiar note that leads me to believe you might be telling the truth. I will have to investigate this matter further, but- oh right, the note,” Iosefka tittered, displeased with the fact that something was amiss in her clinic.

Jaune watched wide-eyed as Iosefka pushed a rolled piece of parchment through the broken panes. He grabbed it, his hand shaking in anticipation as he forced himself to glance back up at the kind woman who retrieved it for him.

“You have my sincerest thanks for this, Miss Iosefka. If there is anything I can do for you, then you have only to ask,” Jaune intoned, bowing once more to the madam of the clinic.

“You are welcome, Hunter, but I will not ask for more than you taking care out there,” Iosefka replied Jaune believing she must have bowed as well by the sound of her clothes rustling.

“Then I shall endeavour to do so. Until we next meet Miss Iosefka,” Jaune agreed readily, departing from the door to not waste the kind woman’s time anymore.

“Be safe, good Hunter,” he heard Iosefka impart as she returned to her duties.

YVYVYVYVY

In truth, Jaune did not go far from the door where he had conversed with Iosefka. He had business yet to accomplish in the clinic and would see it done.

With the note firmly in his grasp, Jaune marched to the recently discovered Lamp, his hand brushing across the cool metal as the strangely coloured flame within burst to life within its confines. Bathed in its indigo glow, he stepped back and unconsciously smiled as the grey mist exploded about its base.

From the broiling grey depths, he watched as two Messengers he readily recognised emerged, as well as two others. The first was the one-eyed one with the exposed upper teeth; it came out boldly with a loud groan and its arms crossed.

It took him a moment longer to place the second one; it wasn’t until it bobbed as if performing a childish bow that he recalled where he had seen this particular Messenger. It was the same one that he had encountered in the sewers, which had led him to locate the saw-shaped badge he now kept close at hand.

“Ahh, my two little helpers, this is a wonderful surprise,” Jaune admitted as he laid down his blade and sat beside the lantern. The chorus of groans, two confused and two very warm, brought a smile to his face. “Forgive me; I meant no offence. I am sure I will become acquainted with you all given time,” Jaune spoke, addressing the other two who stared at him.

“Graoun!”

“Indeed, it seems I will have to heed your advice very closely in the future; I will be sure to be far more thorough in my exploration,” Jaune conceded to the one-eyed messenger. “Oh, and as for you, I held onto the badge you showed me. I remain unsure as to its purpose, but I will retain it all the same.”

As Jaune showed it off, he did not fail to notice how immediately all four of the Messengers seemed to stare at the small piece of shaped metal. The badge appeared to carry some significance, at least amongst the little ones.

“Now for the real treasure, I still lack certain pieces, but I now know that I have previously attended this clinic to receive a Blood Ministration… evidently, I did so very recently. Perhaps this might reveal more,” Jaune breathed as he unfolded the note.

The parchment was yellowed, thicker than paper, and he was sure it would feel a bit courser were he to remove his gloves. However, it was the writing he cared for, and it was the writing that made him unleash a swear beneath his breath.

The writing would be more accurately described as a manic scrawl, but Jaune could still clearly make out the words. It was what they said that brought foul language to his tongue.

‘Seek Paleblood to transcend the hunt.’

Like a hammer ringing dead centre atop a nail, the picture became whole, and Jaune recalled the clinic, the minister who had transfused The Blood into his very veins. He recalled fire and a beast, slaying it with his Saw Cleaver before leaving the clinic with claw marks weeping blood down his back.

He remembered his first death.

How the very first beast he had encountered disembowelled him before ending his life by burrowing its snout into his open guts and feasting on his still-beating heart. It was then he had collected his weapons, gathered his arms, and first laid eyes on the Doll.

But with every answer came more questions.

“Why did I get the transfusion? Where was Iosefka? How did I get to the dream? How did I get to the clinic… how did I even get to Yharnam… why don’t I remember… where is my home….”

“Oughwarugh!” The one-eyed Messenger quickly began shaking Jaune’s paralysed hands, tearing him from the fog that had started wrapping around his thoughts and mind.

“Huh, wha- oh… Oh, damn guess I lost track of my thoughts again, huh? Thank you again, friend,” Jaune huffed, smiling at the little one.

Looking over the paper again, Jaune nodded before tucking it into his coat. While he may have yet to learn what this Paleblood is, its very name was a clue. He also was unsure what it meant to ‘transcend the hunt’, but perhaps this, too, is something he would need to investigate.

“Perhaps… I need to be more… inquisitive,” Jaune announced to his grey compatriots. Their response was a chorus of groans in differing inflections. Jaune could not help but smile at their attempts to communicate with him. He really did admire their enthusiasm.

“Right… this place was the beginning, then shall we start our investigative scouting here?” Jaune queried, earning nods and bobs from the excitable messengers.

Climbing to his feet once more and equipping his sword, Jaune moved to leave the clinic, groaning farewells echoing behind him. He swiftly exited the clinic, not desiring to overstay his welcome and possibly upset Iosefka. As he reached that stone arch entrance in the courtyard, he recalled how it was he who had opened that gate situated beneath it in the first place.

“Right… Paleblood… let the hunt begin,” Jaune chuckled. “Gods, I am starting to sound like Gehrman. Truly, there are some fates worse than death.”

With his new mindset as his guiding light, Jaune set off to truly investigate the city of Yharnam.

Unaware of the price, such curiosity would yet reap.

A.N.

Not much to say here, everyone; this chapter is mainly to help reveal more of Jaune’s abilities and another coping mechanism he can use.

I am still determining about this ‘ two flash-back to Yharnam’ system. I would appreciate some feedback as I am mainly using it as a means with which to display how the survival challenge is giving Jaune a chance to reflect and process.

But if yall don’t like it, we can stick to the usual one at the beginning.