Justice has always seemed, to me, a fickle, strange thing.
My first taste of it was as a child. A teenager, a cripple missing his hand from some cause I didn't know, had been caught stealing bread. Normally, only a whipping. But this bread was from Ansel's temple - or rather, bound to it from the cart that had come into market, not that the child could have read the words on the side that said as such. Food for the priest, or the Chastened, it didn't matter. It belonged to the church.
And so, he had robbed the church.
They hung the boy. Dragged him right out onto the market square and held him down. A rope was tied around his neck, and around the neck of a horse, then threw the slack over the beam of a house. The horse dragged it up as it was drawn, and with it the kicking child. It took minutes for him to die.
All for a loaf of bread, no different from the kind that would have earned him a whipping…
But this was 'justice'.
I had dreams about it for weeks, until Port finally told me it was best put out of mind. Weeks more passed with the dreams, before it began to fade. Before I began to forget, mostly. Though I dove into learning my letters with vigor after that.
But, years later, I would remember that boy…
And that 'justice' was a fickle thing.
XxX----XxX----XxX
Jaune Arc lay in his bed and stared at the tent above him, lit a warm red color by the torch outside and flecked by long shadows warped by the light's angle. He'd come straight to his tent after the trial and crawled in, and hadn't moved since. His armor was starting to chafe, his gambeson was sweaty, and his back was getting stiff from laying still in his mat. But he didn't care.
His mind was racing…
And gods, the throbbing behind his eyes just wouldn't stop!
He heard heavy boots, and the shifting of metal, coming towards him and sighed. It had been about an hour already…
"Brother!" He turned to look at the broad-shouldered shadow that stretched from the foot of the tent and up along its wall, nearly to its top. It was a warped resemblance, stretched out by the torch's light and flecked by a weaker copy of it cast by a further torch. "Are you alive in there?"
"No." He snapped, "Go away, Cardin."
"Lord Rouge sent me-"
"Lord Rouge can hang!" He snarled, sitting up and hissing as his stiff back ached and his legs cramped. Ignoring both, he grunted, "I want nothing from him, or to do with him!"
"He's your commanding officer-"
"I'm putting in for a transfer." Jaune grunted, "As soon as we get back."
"Do you even know how to do that…?" Jaune didn't, actually, but he didn't give the man the satisfaction of admitting it. After a moment, Cardin sighed and said, "Listen, Arc, Lord Rouge sent me to… Try and make sure you understand."
"Understand what?"
"That there's nothing he can do, here." Cardin sighed, kneeling outside his tent. "The laws are clear. She broke them."
"To save lives." He snapped, "Dove's among them! Don't you care about that?"
"Of course I do, damn it, I-" Cardin swore and sighed as he stood, hands on his hips as he turned away from the tent. He didn't leave, though. And after a moment, the man turned back, "Arc, I have never, in my entire damn life, thought I'd mourn a dead an- A dead Chastened. But her? I need you to understand, tomorrow night, I will bleed for her."
"What…?"
"She saved what is as good as my brother's life, Arc." Cardin murmured, "If it helps the Gods see her, I will gladly give my blood."
"Cardin…" He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to… Somehow will the painful pressure behind his eyes to go down. When it, shockingly, faded away, he rolled onto his knees and stood, stepping out of the tent in the same motion.
"Brother!" Jaune felt himself dragged into a hug by the larger man as he emerged and sighed, wrapping his arms around him in turn. It was strange, but comforting, and he returned it after a second of surprise. Pulling away, Cardin held him by his shoulders and smiled, "I'm glad you came out, Brother. We've duties tomorrow, and I feared you wouldn't even eat."
"Y-Yeah…" Jaune shrugged, which let him back up another step and make the space he suddenly wanted. Cardin let him, even backing up a step himself out of apparent respect. Which also let Jaune see the two collared women lingering behind him, where the man's armored bulk had hidden them before. His eyes narrowed, and Jaune flicked a look to Cardin, "Who are they?"
"Ah, reparations?" Jaune's brows furrowed and Cardin sighed, gesturing to each of the dark-haired women in turn. "This is Kat, and Hare. These are Chastened, in Lord Rouge's stable. Each are also well-trained, uh, stewards I guess. Normally they manage his properties in his absence."
"Then why are they here…?"
"He has a dozen like them, scattered across his holdings even, but these he kept with him help manage logistics and other minutiae for our Company." Cardin shrugged, "Nothing overly sensitive, of course, but… Yeah."
"Alright." Jaune grimaced, "And they're… What did you say?"
"Reparations."
"And that means…?"
"Ah, right, peasant upbringing. Ah, sorry, I mean…" Cardin pursed his lips at that, confused by his own misstep and strangely anxious. Finally, though, he explained, "Lord Rouge sent you gifts, to make up for the loss of your servant."
"Gifts?" Jaune blinked, "Wait, he wants to replace Deery?"
"Yes, with two of his-"
"You can't just replace her with- With Rouge's spares!" He snapped, scowling and turning away from Cardin when the other man flinched, more in surprise than anything. Turning sharply, Jaune reached into his tent to retrieve his shield, the now familiar weight on his arm helping to keep him balanced as he straightened. "Tell him he can keep his 'gifts', Winchester. The only thing he has that I want is Deery."
"Arc, he can't just-"
"Yes, he can." Jaune snapped, turning to him, "He is the judge, here. He handed down the sentence."
"He's still constrained by the law!"
"And the law isn't fair! Deery did what was right! And she gets punished for it? How is that justice?!"" Jaune snarled back at the man, who went red in the face at his words. Cardin didn't have an answer, obviously, so he could only scowl at the ground. Jaune sighed and shook his head, "I'm sorry, Brother, I just… Need time to think."
"About?"
"Things." Jaune murmured, laying his hand comfortably on the hammer in his belt. "Things…"
"Jaune, don't do anything rash…"
"I won't." He promised, turning a weak smile on his friend. "I can promise you that."
As he turned to leave, Cardin said, "Rouge can't just take them back, Arc. It's not that simple. He signed them to you, as part of the trial's finalization. They're yours- Compensation, letter of the law."
"Then have him sign them back." He snapped, "I don't have any interest in people I don't know, Cardin."
He left before Cardin could say anything else, marching off towards the gate. The guards, and other Knights, paid him looks as he passed and he had to wonder if anyone had heard him shouting at Cardin. He knew plenty had heard him at the trial, at least. But regardless, none of them spoke to him to do more than murmur a 'hello' or a 'my Lord'. He paid them nods as he went, but kept his gaze down, and his hand on the head of his hammer.
"I took an oath to protect." He murmured to himself, "Anyone in front of me…"
What did it say if he let this happen?
Would it be a betrayal of the Gods to fight for her? Or would it honor his oath to them to do it? They were Chastened, sullied in the Light. But Deery was kind, dutiful, and most of all, she was being sentenced for what should not have even been a crime. Whether the church said it was or not. But the Church's law came from the gods…
So it had to be just.
Right?
The gods were just- They had to be, or why would anyone worship them, save fear?
It made his head - and heart - hurt just thinking about it all… But he had to believe that they were good. Just. That they would support him in this, whatever 'this' was going to be, even if the Church didn't. And to be fair, even he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do. His heart was racing, head aching, and he was pouring anxious sweat-
But he still didn't know what to do.
Patch, as small as it was, didn't really have a 'prison' by proper terms. Instead, like Ansel, it had a series of small jails. Each was about the size of Port's forge, scattered along the wall and two stories. The bottom was for the guards that kept watch, and doubled as an armory for that, and for more regular patrolmen, and a small place to eat and sleep in the back. The stairs were always in the center, spiraling up to make it harder to fight down and with guards on every side. Upstairs was a wide, windowless and open room, lined by dusty old cots and spots of straw thrown down to make rudimentary beds. It was all old, bug-eaten and infested, and Jaune winced when a rat scurried away from the top of the stairs as he came up, the watch guard behind him.
"She's o'er there." The man grunted, pointing at a corner where Deery lay in a cot. "M'right down stairs if ye need me."
"I know…"
"And 'member." He added, laying a gloved hand on Jaune's shoulders, "S'a ten foot drop out there. Through solid wood."
"Are you suggesting I'd do something?"
"Nothin' like that, m'lord." The old guard laughed, turning to head down the stairs. "Just assurin' ya that we're all locked up, nice 'n secure, in here. Only way out would be through me an' every man and woman in Patch."
Which meant through Tai, too… A Light blessed Wanderer.
Did that mean the Gods were telling him not to do anything, then? Tai Yang had been here for years, long enough to raise Ruby who was almost as old as he was. But did time matter to the Gods? Could they have steered Tai Yang here to stop him? As a sign, maybe? Or even merely as something Jaune couldn't get past on his own, let alone with an injured Deery in tow?
His aching head…
There was a stool next to the bed. It was old and rickety, but held as he settled onto it, leaning forward to rest the shield against the end of the bed, and looked at the sleeping woman. Her wounds had been tended to, and her hair had been cleaned and braided, so she looked… Alright, actually. He couldn't even see a lot of her injuries under the blanket. Beyond the painful absence where her arm would have been, at least.
He avoided looking at that…
For a while, he just sat there, shield leaning against the floor of the bed and elbows resting on his knees. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, for a while, before realizing what he was doing and grimacing. He'd been watching her breathe, happy just for her to be alive, but even so… It just wasn't appropriate. Or, it was, really, he'd learned that by now, she was his, so all was 'appropriate'.
But it wasn't his way.
"That's the problem, isn't it?" He murmured, staring at the floor. "It's not my way…"
But what did that really, actually mean?
His instincts said it meant he had to fight. He had armor, a weapon, a name. He even had real training, now, and some experience. But none of it was useful. He didn't know how to sneak her out. And fighting his way out was impossible - he'd come with a small army and that, in and of itself, was too much.
So…
So, what?
What was he meant to do here?
"I can't just stand by and let this happen…"
"You've little choice but to." He flinched, blinked, and shot a look up to Deery who had turned her head to regard him slightly through lidded, tired eyes. She smiled at the surprise he couldn't think to hide on his face and said, "I could practically hear you grinding your teeth, Master. And everytime you move, your armor is… Rather loud."
"A-Ah…" He grimaced, "Is your head aching?"
"Horribly." She sighed, closing her eyes and humming. "My shoulder as well."
"I'll go get a doctor-"
"Doctors are expensive." She cut him off gently, "And a waste on the condemned."
"I'm an Arc, they'll believe I can pay them back later." And, if he could, he would, too. Surely, his family could afford a doctor's care when they needed it. "And you aren't condemned."
"Yes, I am."
"I won't let it matter." He said, "I'll…. Talk to Lord Rouge."
"Lord…"
"I'm sure we can work something out, Deery." He assured her, rambling as he thought. "He-He wants an alliance with me, so maybe he would trade you for it. Or maybe I could just-"
"Jaune." She cut him off, raising her voice almost to a shout and then wincing. He flinched and grimaced, but she only sighed and opened her eyes to look at him.
She gently tugged her blanket down to let him see her chest, between her breasts where a brand like an eye had been burned onto her skin so recently the skin was still raw and red, and the scar a bright white. He'd been burned, and seen burns, plenty of times in the forge. So he could tell it was at best hours old, likely only as old as…
"The trial…"
"I've already been branded, Jaune." She nodded, pulling her arm free and reaching out to lay it on his armored knee. "Right after the trial ended. Lord Rouge did it personally."
"That bastard…"
"Actually, it's a kindness." His brows furrowed and she sighed, "One last lesson, hm? A judge handling a sentencing to the fullest is a show of honor. Doing it himself was his way of thanking me. A way to make the goods see me. Thus, the eye. Rather than the claw marks of a beast."
"Oh…" He shook his head and tugged her blanket back up. "Then I'll… I'll figure something else out. Get you out of here somehow, I don't know."
"Short of fighting past a small army, and a Wandered blessed by Light, you have no way." She chided him, "And I'm certain you're more intelligent than to expect that could work."
"Maybe not, but…" He frowned, "If it's all I can do, I have to try."
"You'd be killed…"
"We all die sooner or later." He huffed, "I've been on borrowed time, I think, since leaving Ansel. I barely survived Nicholas' force being ambushed. And then right after I leave, the Grimm take Ansel?"
"The Gods spared you, then."
"Yeah." He nodded, "Spared me for this. To save you. To do as I swore, to protect the innocent."
"Gods, you are a wonderful fool." Deery sighed, almost wistfully. Smirking, she said, "In another world, I'd have loved you. You know that?"
"W-What?" He flinched and felt heat creep up his neck, then shook it off. "Don't tease me, Deery. This is a serious problem."
"Ember."
"What?"
"My name." She said simply, smiling pleasantly somehow, in spite of everything around them both. "My real one. Not this… This false one, chiseled on my collar by the same hands that burnt my antlers down."
"Ember…" He murmured, feeling the name in his mouth. It was odd to say, to know her real name and know she was willing to share it with him in spite of law and Church teachings. Quietly, and feeling a strange sort of exhilarated shame for the wrongness of it all, he bowed his head. "Thank you, Ember."
"Faunus names are special, Jaune." She explained quietly, "What I have given you is my given name. My family name. The one used in utter intimacy, amongst kin, the best of friends, and lovers only. I trust you understand the important, private nature of that? What it means for me to share it?"
"I do." He nodded, "I won't share it."
"I trust not." Ember smiled, flicking a look past him. "But, forgive me, I wasn't speaking to you."
"What-"
"I understand your meaning." A voice spoke from behind him, close enough to startle him. He shot to his feet and spun, eyes wide in surprise.
The Faunus woman was thin, but powerfully built, with pale, bare biceps and calves of corded muscle. A scar flecked her calf, and a longer one curved along the outside of her bicep, but bar those, she was markless. Her clothing was simple. Dark green shorts that hung loosely down to her knees, where leather cuffs cinched them to keep them from getting caught, and a tightly fitted black shirt that hugged her from hip to neck, capped just below her jawline and at her shoulders by studden, dark leather cuffs. She also wore gloves, up to her elbow and layered on the top with thin metal plates that would never take a strike, but had enough marks and nicks on them to show she'd used them somehow, and boots capped on the outsides with old, chipped iron toe-guards. Her hands were protected by thin, fingerless gloves.
And each held a weapon, a short sword on her left with a rounded guard, and a wide-bladed sort of cleaver in her right.
A cleaver with the slightest lines of still-wet red…
"You're a Faunus…" He murmured before he could catch himself, hand gripping the head of his hammer in his belt tightly. Her feline ears flicked and she cocked her head, but Jaune couldn't read her expression past the porcelain, feline mask she wore. Or see her eyes through the lenses over them.
"She's more than that." Ember said from behind him, "She's White Fang."
"White Fang…"
"I am." She said, "And he's an Arc. Killing him would cause waves…"
"It would." He heard her gasp and turned, watching her force herself up on her hand, panting for breath. On instinct, he turned to help her - back into bed, or up, he couldn't guess.
A flicker of darkness moved from the corner of his vision, and he froze, looking along the short sword that the woman had pressed to his neck. With a shove and a step, she drove him back to fall onto the cot and turned, slipping the blade down into the space between his neck and his mail with practiced ease. A flick, and she'd open his throat…
"Don't!" Ember grunted, staggering upright and practically throwing herself on the woman's other shoulder. The Faunus caught her around the waist and pulled her close, to hold her up, but barely cocked her head to regard her. When the woman didn't back down, Ember added, "If you hurt him, I won't go with you."
"I can make you."
"I'll scream." She swore, "And struggle and fight. You won't be able to escape with me."
"You'd die." The Faunus snapped, finally turning away from Jaune and looking at the Chastened in her arms. "For him. You'd die for him?"
"Without a single moment of hesitation." She nodded, pushing herself off the Faunus and grabbing her swordhand by the wrist. "He's an Arc, yes. But he's not his father. He is kind. And, I believe, he could be an asset."
"How?"
"That is for the Old Man to decide." Ember said, shooting Jaune a look. She smiled thinly and then turned back to the woman, "Black Cat, you need to stand down. He's a Human, yes, but you know from Mistral that Humans don't all hate us."
"Arcs do."
"He doesn't." She countered, bit her lip, and then said, "I offered myself to him, you know."
"What?"
"I was a slave, and he my master. And a young man." She explained, "It seemed inevitable. You know what he did?"
"..."
"He refused me." Ember murmured, "Because he didn't want to force me into bed with him. Because he was better than that. And then, he sympathized with me. With what was done to me, to my antlers. Does that sound like an Arc to you?"
For a long moment, no one moved, and Jaune didn't dare to speak. Then, finally, the Faunus pulled her sword away, and out of Ember's hand. She sighed and said, "No, it doesn't. And… And if you will vouch for him, then I will trust you, Watcher."
"Good." Ember said, backing away stiffly and turning as Jaune stood, pushing himself up off the bed that the Faunus had driven him onto. Quietly, she eyed his hand on the head of his hammer and said, "Don't. She has Light-"
"Watcher!"
"-and will beat you." Ember finished, shooting Black Cat a look and then turning to stagger over to Jaune. She stumbled and he caught her, holding her up the same way the Faunus had. She wrapped an arm around him and sighed. "This is goodbye, Jaune."
"But…"
"I can buy your life." She said, "But Black Cat won't take you with us. She'll kill you if you try and follow, too."
"I see…" He frowned, wrapping his arms around the woman in a hug. He turned his gaze on the Faunus and frowned. "You'd better protect her."
"Compared to your work thus far, I'm sure I'll manage."
"Don't press her." Ember said, pulling away from him. "And… Forgive her, too."
"For what?"
"For this." The Faunus grunted, spinning and snapping her foot up, into the side of his head under the rim of his kettle helm. It threw him to the side and onto the cot and made his vision swim, and then she was on him, straddling him and wrapping her fingers around his throat, using her hips to pin his and bearing down on his throat with all her weight.
He fought, slammed his armored fist into her sides while his other hand struggled at his fingers, but she didn't budge or flinch. When that failed, he tried to rise until another set of hands slammed down onto his shoulders, forcing him down. Wild-eyed, and heart roaring in his ears, he looked up into another feline mask, just like the first. Blood roared in the back of his head, and pressure built, but…
But he was fading quickly, losing his grip.
As his vision swam, she sighed and he heard a distant, "He'll live, Ember. But not if we don't make it look good…"
"Alright…" She appeared above him, between the two copies of the Faunus woman, and laid a hand on his cheek. "Just relax. And go to sleep, Lord. It'll be alright. Just relax…"
His vision swam once again, and blackness swept in around him.