• Published 31st Aug 2018
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SAPR - Scipio Smith



Sunset, Jaune, Pyrrha and Ruby are Team SAPR, and together they fight to defeat the malice of Salem, uncover the truth about Ruby's past and fill the emptiness within their souls.

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Sunset on Alba Longa (New)

Sunset on Alba Longa

As the rackety old train pulled into Alba Longa, Sunset stood before the carriage door and pushed down upon the window.

It got stuck, without having descended far enough down that she could stick her head out and see the lock on the other side.

Nevertheless, there was enough room for Sunset to stick her arm through, and so, Sunset did just that, fumbling for the catch that would open the door.

She found it. It, too, was stuck. A scowl settled upon Sunset's face as she waggled the handle fruitlessly, turning it this way and that, trying to get it to move more than a fraction of an inch.

It stubbornly refused to do so.

Sunset huffed, grabbed the case resting on the floor, and teleported out of the railway carriage in a move that would have been the height of showing off if she hadn't been physically trapped otherwise.

It was a good thing no one else seemed to want to get off here.

Although it wasn’t necessarily the best advertisement for the town.

Sunset had Sol Invictus slung across one shoulder and a rucksack on the other, with Soteria — worn across her back — sitting between the two. The case in her right hand was light and barely weighed upon her arm.

Sunset had not packed for this visit anything like as extensively as Pyrrha, for the simple reason that she had far less need to make a good impression on Jaune's family, and for the equally simple reason that, unlike Pyrrha, Sunset could be a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl as easily as she could be a frock or gown girl.

Thus, Sunset was not sartorially overburdened; the heaviest items she had brought with her were all the research materials she had in her rucksack, not only plenty of note paper but also Runciman’s majestic History of Vale and Bagehot’s Peerage, both borrowed from Beacon Library. If she found anything here, it would be useful to have some means of cross referencing it with a respected academic source.

Of course, there was also the need to give thought to the likely possibility that she would find nothing of note. Lady Nikos was expecting Sunset to find something that would be a balm for her embarrassment at Pyrrha's choice of boyfriend, and if there was nothing to find…

That was another reason why Sunset had brought the books with her: if she had to make something up, it would be as well to look vaguely consistent with the real thing.

"Sunset!"

The sound of Pyrrha's voice drew Sunset's attention to just beyond the dead railway station. Pyrrha and Jaune were waiting for her, standing side by side. Another woman — presumably one of Jaune's sisters judging by the physical similarity and the fact that she did not look old enough to be his mother — stood behind them, a little way off.

Sunset waved with her free hand as she made her way across the grass towards them.

Pyrrha was dressed in a gown of green, with a skirt that reached all the way down to the ground, even if it did not spread out very far on either side of her hips. The skirt was a very light, pale shade of red, but the long peplum that descended as low as her knees was a deeper, richer shade. The bodice continued seamlessly from the peplum, embracing her figure until it reached the collar that wrapped around her shoulders but left her arms bare and which was of the sane pale shade as the skirt, save for the rich red camellia that sat in the very centre of the collar. A black choker, from which hung a trio of emerald pendants, was tightly clasped about her throat. Her hair was worn in its usual ponytail, and her circlet gleamed upon her brow.

"You look nice," Sunset said as she approached. "You look … the same," she added to Jaune, who was wearing his hoodie and jeans.

Jaune laughed self-deprecatingly. "Nice to see you, too," he said. "How was the trip?"

"The carriage door stuck," Sunset declared, "but I suppose the view was nice enough if you like that sort of thing."

"Did you and Ruby have a good time without us?" asked Pyrrha.

"Yeah, mainly," Sunset replied. "Although Phoebe is more upset than usual, apparently; something to be aware of when you get back."

Pyrrha frowned. "What happened?"

"I don't know; Ruby and I have been keeping out of her way," Sunset admitted. "Arslan warned us to steer clear, so we did. But anyway, more to the point, how have things been with you two? Have the future in-laws been suitably impressed?"

Pyrrha blushed near as red as her dress, while Jaune chuckled slightly nervously. "It was … a bit of a rough start," he said, "but now, I think that pretty much everyone has accepted that I'm going back to Beacon and that Pyrrha and I are together.

Sunset's eyes narrowed. "Was that ever in any doubt?"

"From me? No," Jaune said. "From parts of my family … kinda."

"I see," Sunset muttered. "But you're not going to get any more trouble, are you? Or are you? You did say 'pretty much everyone.'"

"I meant 'everyone,'" Jaune said quickly.

"Then why didn't you say 'everyone'?" demanded Sunset. "Never mind, if you say it's taken care of, then … I shall soon find out if you're lying, I suppose." She grinned. "But, on the basis that you're not lying: congratulations!"

"Thank you," Pyrrha murmured. She beamed brightly, her while face illuminated by her smile as she said, "They invited me to be in the family photograph!"

"Nice!" Sunset declared. "I never got that; Flash's mother would have rather died than let me anywhere near a family photo. You're well in there." She paused. "You know, usually I would say that Jaune was the lucky one — because, well, because you are the lucky one, no offence — but I have to admit, Pyrrha, you … you're pretty lucky too. You're lucky that your boyfriend's mother doesn't think you're awful, for a start." She smiled.

Pyrrha chuckled as she put one hand upon Jaune's arm. "That is far, far from the extent of my good fortune," she declared, "but I am glad of it, although it seemed like it might be a close call at first."

"I am going to need to hear all the details," Sunset said. "But before that, is there anywhere I can put my stuff?"

"You've got a room over the tavern," Jaune said. "Unfortunately, there isn't room for you to stay at my family's place."

"Fair enough," Sunset said. "Is someone going to lead the way?"

"I'll take you there," the other woman, the one who had been waiting patiently hitherto, stepped forward. She was a little shorter than Jaune — or Pyrrha, for that matter — but her arms were visibly toned as they emerged from beneath the short sleeves of her blue uniform shirt, and she wore a copper badge upon her belt. She thrust out her hand. "Sky Arc, Jaune's sister and the Sheriff of Alba Longa."

Sunset took her hand. "Sunset Shimmer, Jaune's team leader."

Sky nodded. "I'll show you to the Moon — that's the tavern," she explained. "You'll be stuck with my company for a little while; Jaune's taking Pyrrha out on the lake, aren't you Jaune?"

Jaune shifted nervously back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Well, it is beautiful this time of year."

"Very nice, very … traditional," Sunset said. "I certainly won't keep you from that. Lead the way, Sheriff."

"'Sky' will be fine," Sky said, as she turned away. "It's this way."

"I'll see you later, then?" Sunset said to Jaune and Pyrrha.

"Sky will show you the house too," Jaune assured her. "We'll probably be there."

"Okay," Sunset said. "Have fun, and don't ruin that dress falling into the water." She smiled at them, before hastening after Sky Arc.

She swiftly drew level with Jaune's sister, then slowed her pace so that she stayed level instead of pulling out in front in this place that was new to her.

Besides, she had a sense that Sky wished to speak to her.

"So," Sky said, thereby validating Sunset's suspicion, "you're Jaune's boss?"

"I'm his team leader," Sunset said. "Which means, yes, in battle, I am his boss. It also means that I'm responsible for what happens to him."

"And outside of battle?"

"I'm … still responsible, in many respects," Sunset replied.

Sky fell silent for a moment. "Pyrrha … tells me that Jaune has … killed someone."

Sunset swallowed. "Yeah," she acknowledged. "Yeah, Pyrrha … isn't lying about that."

"Could you have done something so that he didn't?"

Sunset was silent for a moment. "I won't claim to be a flawless leader," she said. "I've made mistakes. But when I think about that particular battle, I made the best dispositions I could. and I made the best plan I could. There's nothing I would do differently. Sometimes, in battle, things just happen. It wasn't my intent to inflict that on Jaune, but it does not haunt me as a failure."

"And you?" Sky asked. "Have you ever…?"

Sunset glanced at her. "Killed someone? Rather a personal question, don't you think?"

Sky shrugged. "I'm asking it anyway."

"Obviously," Sunset muttered. She breathed deeply, in and out. "Yes," she half-growled the word.

Sky nodded. "I … I didn't want Jaune to go back to that school."

"That's not your decision to make," Sunset said.

"That isn't what changed my mind."

"Then what did?" asked Sunset.

"One of those grimm," Sky said softly. "First one we've seen around here in years. Generations. Jaune and Pyrrha … I get it now." She paused. "Except there's still one thing that I don't get. Well, two things, actually."

"And what are those?" Sunset asked.

"If you're supposed to be training to fight monsters, then why are you killing people?"

"Sometimes, the people are the monsters," Sunset replied.

"Okay," Sky allowed. "I'll … fine, let's go with that. But more importantly, aren't you supposed to go to school to learn how to do stuff later? Jaune said he fought in some big battle; shouldn't that be what the people who've already graduated do?"

"You might think that," Sunset murmured dryly.

"I'm being serious," Sky insisted.

"Then in all seriousness," Sunset replied, "you can't learn how to fight monsters without actually fighting some monsters, and that means exposing ourselves to unpredictable circumstances; we … we did not intend to take such burdens on ourselves. It just … happened."

Sky was silent a moment. "That's it?"

"If I had a better answer, I would give it to you," Sunset replied.

"Hmm," Sky muttered. "I guess even the best explanation wouldn't make me worry any the less. So I'll just have to accept it, won't I?"

Sunset didn't say anything. There wasn't anything that she could say that was likely to help. Jaune being launched upon this course, perilous though it was, there were no words would make it less perilous. Nor would putting meaning to the peril make it hurt the less.

Sky shook her head. "Anyway, I hear that you're the one who's going to prove that we're all nobles?"

Sunset laughed. "If I can."

"And if you can't?"

"Then I'll make something up."

"Really?" Sky asked incredulously.

Sunset shrugged. "What Lady Nikos wants, above all else, is something that will let her save face in the salons of Mistral. Obviously, some truth would be preferable, but if the truth is not amenable, then lies will serve."

"'Save face,'" Sky repeated. "Because our family isn't good enough for the princess of Mistral."

Sunset cleared her throat. "If I've offended you—"

"It would annoy me if Pyrrha said it," Sky declared. "But I guess if Pyrrha thought that—"

"She wouldn't be dating Jaune in the first place," Sunset finished for her. "The views of the mother are not those of the daughter. Do not hold Pyrrha to account for Lady Nikos' attitudes or opinions."

"Don't worry; I've spent enough time around Pyrrha to take the measure of her," Sky assured her. "She dresses like a princess, but she's not full of herself at all. But what about you?"

Sunset snorted. "I can be full of myself, from time to time."

"I meant," Sky explained, "why are you doing this? Do you think Jaune isn't good enough for Pyrrha?"

"What I think is irrelevant," Sunset said. "I'm not dating Jaune, and I'm not Pyrrha's mother either. But Lady Nikos has been good to me, and if I can repay that with this service, then I will. There is no more to it than that."

Sky's lips twisted for a moment. "Okay. But all the same, what do you think of them?"

"I think he's very lucky," Sunset said. "But … though it is less obvious, so is she. Pyrrha … has found a man to navigate her contradictions."

"What do you mean?"

"Pyrrha wishes to be treated as of herself, not of her reputation," Sunset said. "Loved not for her strength of arms, nor for her noble lineage, but for her spirit. And yet, at the same time, I think she would find it hard to be treated … too ordinarily, to be used for some boy's good time and then thrown away, to be hurt or taken for granted. To be … got into trouble, as they say. Her gentle spirit would not bear it. Jaune … it seems this place has bred a gentleman."

"It's bred a nice boy," Sky said. She frowned. "You know, I'm glad Jaune’s dating Pyrrha and not you."

"I'm glad of your gladness at the way things are, but I cannot but suspect an insult to my character."

"The fact that you think being treated like an ordinary girl means being treated badly," Sky said. "For all your leather jacket, you're more stuck up than Pyrrha in her dresses, aren't you?"

Sunset smiled. "Guilty as charged."

Sky huffed. "Anyway. As well as being the Sheriff, I'm also the family expert on the town and its history, so once you're settled in, I'll show you where everything is."

"I'm more interested in the family history than in the town," Sunset said.

"That might not be so easy," Sky replied, "but I'll help you out if I can."

Sunset hadn't been sure what to expect from Jaune's home, but if she had conscious expectations, then she had probably — once she understood that Jaune came from a small town — been expecting something a little like Princess Twilight's Ponyville — which was to say, the Ponyville of Princess Twilight's stories, whatever relationship that might or might not have to the place itself — a small community which nevertheless managed to bustle despite its size, somewhere friendly — perhaps overly so — somewhere … a bit like Jaune himself, really.

What she got were hard stares which verged on hostile and eyes which followed her through the village as though they feared what she might do if left unobserved.

"People here aren't too fond of outsiders," Sky explained.

"And you?"

"It's been … an enlightening couple of days," Sky replied.

Sky showed Sunset the Arc family home, then brought her to the Moon Over Water, the village tavern. From the outside, it looked modest, a two-storey wooden building with a shallow lying slanted roof, looking as much like someone's cabin as a communal space. Inside, it was dark, illuminated by dim red lights which cast the bar and its occupants in harsh, sinister lighting; guitar-heavy country music was playing on the jukebox, and a couple of burly, moustachioed men in denim were playing pool in one corner of the room as Sky led Sunset inside.

Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her.

"Hey, Oakie," Sky called. "This here is Sunset Shimmer; she's here for the room I talked to you about."

The man behind the bar had long grey hair and a grey moustache drooping down on either side of his mouth to end up beneath his chin. He said, "Right," and reached beneath the bar to pull out a set of keys on a plastic fob. "Here you go."

He threw the keys at Sunset, who caught them in one hand.

"Thanks," she said. She glanced at Sky. “This place isn’t fond of outsiders but you have rooms to let?”

“We do get some visitors,” Sky pointed out. “We’re still a part of the Kingdom of Vale, after all, and we aren’t subsistence farmers either. The tax assessor, the purchaser come to buy our grain and fruit, the travelling merchant … we don’t always welcome their presence, but we recognise they need somewhere to stay.”

"You the huntress that's gonna keep us all safe?" asked one of the two men playing pool.

"No, this is a friend of Jaune's," Sky said. "There'll be a qualified huntsman along soon enough, but she's not it."

"Shame," the other pool player said. "I wouldn't mind having a huntress around if she was as fine-looking as you."

It was all that Sunset could do not to roll her eyes.

A man at the bar, older than her by more than a few years, muscularly built, with short red hair, glanced her way and looked for a second, before turning away, having said nothing.

“Your room number is on the fob,” Sky told her. “And they’re upstairs.”

There were only four rooms upstairs to choose from, so Sunset could have found the right room by just trying the key in every lock until she found the one it opened — she wasn’t even sure that there were any other guests to worry about disturbing — but the number 4 was written on the plastic fob, directing Sunset to the room at the back of the upstairs corridor, nearest the bathroom.

Sunset only had to open the door to see that the rooms did not have en suite facilities. In fact, they barely had anything at all, just a bed surrounded by four wooden walls, a window that Sunset wasn’t sure that she trusted to open in this place, and wooden chest at the foot of the bed. That was pretty much it, really.

Still, could be worse.

There might not be a lock on the door.

“It isn’t much,” Sky admitted. “We don’t get—”

“A lot of outsiders, yes,” Sunset murmured. “So you’ve told me.” She put down her case on the floor and her rucksack and weapons on the bed.

Sky shut the door behind her. “So,” she said, “do you want to get straight to work or do you want to … settle in for a little bit?”

Sunset looked around the sparse and barren room. “'Settle in'?”

“Yeah, good point,” Sky said. “Okay, I’ll show you to the town archives, but before that…” She smiled. “Are there any embarrassing stories about Jaune that you would care to share?”

Sunset chuckled. “No.”

“No, there are no stories, or no, you won’t share them?” Sky asked.

“No, I’m not going to embarrass Jaune behind his back,” Sunset said.

Sky made a disappointed noise. “We already know about him chasing Weiss Schnee.”

“He told you about that?”

“As part of the story of how he and Pyrrha got together,” Sky explained.

“Well, if Jaune wants to air his youthful missteps that’s fine,” Sunset replied, “but as the team leader, I have to show loyalty to my teammates.”

“So … no embarrassing stories?”

“No…” Sunset hesitated. “I will tell you one thing, because it’s more funny than embarrassing, and because at this point, it will allow me to say something that I need to say.”

Sky cocked her head slightly to one side. “Go on.”

“Before he came here,” Sunset said, “I should add that I heard this from Ruby, our other teammate, but before he and Pyrrha left for here, Jaune was apparently afraid that Pyrrha might leave him for some big strapping local man.” Sunset was silent for a moment. “Which I thought was pretty ridiculous, even before I saw the standard of your local men.”

Sky folded her arms. “Our local boys aren’t that bad!”

“Are you involved with any of them?” Sunset replied.

“No,” Sky admitted. “But I … that kind of thing … anyway, let’s get you started. All the archives are stored under the Town Hall; I’ll show you around, and then … I’m going to have to leave you to get on with it; I do have a job to do here.”

“Yeah, that will be fine,” Sunset assured her. “As I said before, I’m mostly interested in the family.”

“And like I told you, that may not be so easy to find,” Sky replied. “I’m not sure that there is anything on the family before Bohemund Arc.”

“Who?”

“Our great-great-grandfather,” Sky said. “He founded this town.”

“And fought in the Great War, yes?”

“That’s the one,” Sky agreed. “I’ll show you his statue before we head to the Town Hall.”

Sky led her back out of the tavern and brought her through the village to the statue of her ancestor, Bohemund Arc; the plinth bore no name or inscription, doubtless because this was a small town and everyone already knew who he was.

He certainly cut an impressive figure, mounted upon his warhorse, with Crocea Mors held aloft; standing below, looking up at him, it was easy to see what Jaune had been attempting to become.

But not everyone could be the second coming of their famous ancestors. The world just didn’t work like that.

Still, he certainly looked like a good place to start — Sunset had no better ideas — so she allowed Sky to lead her into the dark depths beneath the Town Hall, the most impressive building in Alba Longa by some distance, and there, amongst the shelves and shelves of archives, the records of old ordinances and resolutions debated, passed or defeated, the deeds of the mayors and the results of the elections, Sunset unpacked her notes and her books and started her research with Bohemund Arc.

He was as impressive a fellow as his statue — and the fact that he had been given a statue at all — indicated. He had founded Alba Longa when he was only a young man; according to the records of the Mayoralty, he was only thirty-two when, in response to a humble petition, the King of Vale had granted Alba Longa a town charter, recognising the new settlement as a community with the freedom to administer its own affairs under His Majesty and under the laws of Vale. At that point, Bohemund had been acclaimed as mayor, no other candidates presenting themselves. The town charter had not been granted for a couple of years after the first houses had been built beside the lake, so Bohemund must have started the founding before he was even thirty.

An impressive man, indeed.

After a single term as mayor, he had resigned his office, declaring that said office ought to be bigger than any one man. That was a knock against him as far as Sunset was concerned; she knew that some Remnant historians were inclined to praise the virtue of yielding up power, just as they praised the Last King for abdicating his throne, but Sunset didn’t see the point in giving up a position you were good at just because you could. Someone had to rule, after all, and it might as well be someone who had been ruling well thus far as some newcomer who would have to find their feet.

Nevertheless, Bohemund Arc had made that well-intentioned mistake, retiring to his farm and his family, but when the Great War had begun, he had come out of retirement to take up his sword, raising a company of volunteers and placing them at the King’s service. By that time, he had been closer to seventy than sixty, yet by all accounts — accounts, admittedly, written by his friends and family; Sunset’s main source for all of this was a collection of letters home by the various soldiers who had marched with him — he had led his men with valour in the field and treated them with consideration in the camp. He had perished during General Colton’s abortive Mistral campaign, besieging a fortress held by the faunus. Wounded, he had refused water, insisting it be given to another wounded soldier whose need, so he claimed, was greater than his own.

He had died not long after.

A remarkable man, to be sure, but Lady Nikos was not interested in whether Jaune’s ancestors were brave, although perhaps … perhaps she ought to have been. Perhaps Mistral ought to give a little more consideration to brave ancestors, rather than simply noble ones.

But then, if you were going to take that attitude, then why bother with ancestry at all?

That was a question that Sunset did not wish to get into, so she put it out of her mind and went back to the story of Bohemund Arc to see if she could find out anything about him from before he had established Alba Longa. It was not a fertile search, as Sky had warned her that it would not be; nobody from the founding days of Alba Longa seemed to want to discuss what they had been or where they had come from before the town was founded. It was as if they were ashamed of themselves, or more charitably, they simply wished to make a fresh start here, unburdened by what had come before.

Judging by his speech upon accepting the Mayoral office, it was clear that Bohemund Arc had certainly seen it that way.

Every man has a past, he had said, addressing the people of the newly chartered town. Only the newborn babe is free from the shackles of what has gone before, and even a child can bear the burden of their parents' legacies. But, rarely, we are given the chance to throw off those chains and to start anew, defined not by what we have been and done before but by what we choose to do and be from now.

Whatever I was, whatever my family were, matters not anymore. Whatever you were, whatever you have been, matters not anymore. For we have received the Royal Charter, bearing the seal of His Majesty the King, and by this seal, whatever went before is rendered null and void.

We are the people of Alba Longa now, and the future is in our hands.

It did occur to Sunset that if this settlement was founded by people running from their pasts, it might explain why they had a dislike of visitors and outsiders which had become ingrained in their descendants.

It also occurred to her that if that were the case, then neither she nor Jaune nor Lady Nikos might like the answers if she were to continue to pry into the secrets of the Arc family and its heritage.

Well, if that is the case … I can keep a secret, Celestia knows. If I find out anything disgraceful, I shall keep it to myself and make up something more inspiring for Lady Nikos.

I think a man like Bohemund Arc deserves an inspiring ancestry in any case.

Nevertheless, his insistence on leaving the past beyond Alba Longa aside didn’t leave her very much to go on. Nor did it help that, judging by a comment made by his son, Robert Arc, in a letter home to his mother during the war — in which he had fought first alongside his father, and then been elected to lead the company after his father’s death — Bohemund Arc had been illiterate. It was a surprising fact to Sunset, but there was no denying what was written in Robert’s letter.

Father is unable to write you himself, but he wishes me to convey his deepest love and most sincere affection and to tell you that he wishes for nothing more than that this bloody war should come to an end, that he might return home to you and live out the remainder of your days in peace.

It didn’t have to mean that he was incapable of writing, of course — he might have hurt his hand — but there was not a single letter home written by Bohemund in the entire collection, and to Sunset’s mind, the fact that Robert didn’t feel the need to explain why his father was unable to write was suggestive.

She spent hours searching, going without lunch because she was getting caught up in the search, hunting down every scrap of paper, every letter, every anything that might give her a clue about Bohemund Arc’s origins, his parentage, who he had been before he founded Alba Longa.

There was nothing. The slate had started clean here in this town, just as he had wished.

What kind of past would drive someone to erase it? Sunset could think of answers, just not any good ones.

Since she was unable to look further back, Sunset found herself looking forwards, closer to her own time, for all the good that it would do. Bohemund’s son, Robert, had taken up his father’s sword and fought in the Great War until the final victory, being present at the Battle of the Four Sovereigns; he had even been one of the Last King’s honour guard, who had accompanied His Majesty to accept the submission of Mistral, Mantle, and Vacuo. And then, like his father before him, he had returned to Alba Longa and taken up a quiet life, farming his land, helping his neighbours, a presence in the life of the town but one with no official role.

His son — one of his sons — Carrot Arc, had attended the then-nascent Beacon Academy, and Carrot was the most prolific writer of the three generations of Arcs that Sunset had yet come across, because Carrot had kept a diary.

There was little to hope that Carrot’s journal would begin with a recounting of his family history, but nevertheless, Sunset took it out of its file box and, using telekinesis rather than her fingers to move the pages for fear of damaging it, began to flick through it.

...my partner is a man named Crown D’Eath; he often seems sad, and when he is not sad, he is rather solemn, but he is incredibly brave. In fact I’m not sure that he has any fear at all.

I saw Delphi sitting alone again today; I think it’s pretty harsh for even her own teammates, her own partner, to want nothing to do with her like this, just because she’s from Mistral. She didn’t start the war, or fight in it. I went and sat with her.

I don’t understand how anyone can treat someone so beautiful with such unkindness.

Sunset snorted. Arcs get struck down easily, it seems.

Crown got into a fight today with Goshawk Winchester. I wasn’t sure what it was about, but Crown is my partner, so when the punches started flying, I joined in to help him, of course. It turns out — as Crown told me when we were doing our detention together — that Winchester had insulted his family. Crown told me that the D’Eath’s are an old Valish noble line, of long standing and much honour, but that they have fallen on hard times recently and are much reduced in state, so families like the Winchesters look down on them now.

I wonder if that’s why he fights so ferociously, so fiercely: he feels as though he has nothing to lose, since his family has already lost everything.

Nevertheless, I must confess I think it must be rather grand to know where you come from and to come from such a prestigious lineage. I felt rather embarrassed telling him that I don’t know anything about my family past my grandfather, although I also felt ashamed of my embarrassment, since both father and grandfather were heroes in the war.

If even you don’t know where your family came from, what hope is there for me? Sunset wondered.

I’m not ashamed of my family. The examples of service from my father and grandfather are why I decided to come here to Beacon and train so that I can follow in their footsteps. I just wish that I knew more about where we came from. I can still look to the future while being curious about my past.

Crown wasn’t contemptuous at all; in fact, he seemed fascinated. He said that Crocea Mors is much older than Grandfather’s day and asked if he could borrow it to do some study.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. It seems that I’m not the first one to walk this road.

Crown has been spending a lot of time in the library; he’s there almost all the time he’s not in class. I wish that he’d tell me why. I asked Delphi about it, and she told me that people have reasons for everything they do, but that sometimes, they prefer to keep those reasons private. I think she was talking about herself as much as about Crown.

Sunset frowned, flicking rapidly through pages in which there was nothing more about Crown’s researches, just ordinary details of school life — although from what she could gather from skimming through, ordinary school life which was becoming a little more tense as Carrot began to court this Delphi, the Mistralian student.

Crown and I had a row today. He was trying to get me to drop Delphi, and I wouldn’t hear of it. He kept on pushing me about it, and finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I let him have it, telling him that I wasn’t going to turn my back on the girl I love — yes, I said it, I love her! — just because she’s Mistralian and people don’t approve. Crown told me that it wasn’t about her being from Mistral. It wasn’t about the war, anyway.

He told me what he’d been researching in the library.

Sunset sat up straight.

I won’t put down what he told me.

“Oh, come on!” Sunset yelled, and then looked around guiltily, grateful that there was no one else down in the archives to have overheard that.

It’s not possible, what he said, and even if it were true, what he wants, what he talked about, it’s madness. It’s ridiculous. It’s wrong. I hate to be that kind of person, but I had to be honest: we wouldn’t be able to be friends if he kept on talking that way. Crown went very quiet, but he agreed not to bring it up.

Thanks a lot, Carrot, Sunset thought.

It occurred to her that there was some possibility that Crown D’Eath was still alive. Yes, being a huntsman was a dangerous profession, but they were only talking about Jaune’s grandfather’s generation … admittedly, Sunset didn’t know anyone with living grandparents, but there had to be some around somewhere; it wasn’t that long ago. He’d only be … about as old as Professor Ozpin, surely?

And if he did come from an old noble family, well, then he would be in Bagehot’s Peerage; not the use to which Sunset had intended to put it, but it was a good thing that she’d brought it with her nonetheless.

Sunset put down Carrot Arc’s diary and took up the book, a record of all the Valish noble families, their genealogies, coats of arms, notable members, deeds, and so and so forth. New editions were published regularly, taking account of births, marriages.

Sunset wondered idly if there was a Mistralian equivalent, or if all the old families knew one another’s history so well that there was no need for such.

She would be amazed if there wasn’t something like it.

And she thought that it would be rather nice, when the new edition came out, and it came time to draw a line from Pyrrha Penthesilea Penelope Alcestis Ariadne Hippolyta Nikos to Jaune Arc, with a little ‘m.’ above said line, if there was at least some indications as to where the lines flowing down to Jaune Arc had come from.

The families in Bagehot’s were arranged not in alphabetical order, but in order of their seniority in the peerage, but thankfully, there was an index in alphabetical order in the back, which Sunset was able to use to find the D’Eath family roughly in the middle of the book, possibly shading ever so slightly towards the back half.

She opened to the correct page of the heavy, hardback tome and was confronted by a picture of the D’Eath coat of arms, a silver helm with the visor down upon a scarlet field, and the motto, ‘First in the Vanguard’.

Sunset scanned the family tree, turning over the pages until she came to the most recent entry.

Crown D’Eath was dead, and died without heir, what was more; he had never married and had no children, making it overwhelmingly likely that whatever he had learned, or thought he had learned, had died with him.

A now disgraced family

Sunset blinked. 'Disgraced'? Why disgraced? It sounded as though they had declined in wealth, in power, but disgraced? Not a word she had expected to see written here.

She found herself skipping over a lot of the information about the history of the line, jumping to the final paragraph.

The family became disgraced and extinct with the death without issue or heir of Crown D’Eath, the fourteenth lord, following a series of acts of terror including the assassination of a Councillor, the murder of a huntress, and sundry other crimes vile and disreputable.

Sunset stared almost blankly at the paragraph for a few moments. There was … there was not really very much that you could say to that. It was not what she had expected to read.

She couldn’t shake the feeling that it was connected to the Arc family. There was no proof of that, but she was convinced of it nonetheless.

For that reason, she temporarily packed up her stuff, putting books and pens and papers and everything else back in her rucksack and slinging it over her shoulder as she ascended out of the underworld of the archives and back up into the corridors of the town hall, where the floors were flint and the walls were wood-panelled, decorated with hunting trophies and oil paintings. Sunset soon emerged from there, too, blinking into the sunlight, and set off through the town towards the Sheriff’s office.

Sky Arc might have a job to do, but there was no reason why Sunset couldn’t call upon her at her workplace for a short chat.

She reached the shores of the lake, the sunlight falling upon the waves and making the water seem almost silver, sparkling under the light. Out on the lake, Sunset could see, a little way off so that they seemed small in her eyes, Jaune and Pyrrha in a rowing boat. Pyrrha was rowing, leaning forwards and then backwards in a practiced motion as she drove the oars through the water, while Jaune sat at the other end of the boat with a guitar in his hands, playing something that Sunset was too far off to catch more than the faint strains of.

As Sunset watched, Pyrrha stopped rowing, letting her devote her full attention to Jaune and his music.

“They make a cute pair, don’t they?”

Sunset started a little, looking around behind her to see Miranda Wells approaching, dressed in a loose-fitting floral-pattern dress and a big, floppy summer hat that fell down over her face, casting a shadow over it and over the hair that fell down across her shoulders.

Miranda smiled. “Should it be that easy to sneak up on a huntress?”

“Some huntresses, you wouldn’t be able to sneak up on,” Sunset said, “but I’m one of the ones who needs to see their enemy coming.” She paused. “But the answer to your question is yes, they do make a very cute pair.” She glanced at the easel that Miranda was carrying in one hand, as well as the satchel slung across her other shoulder. “Are you going to be doing a spot of painting?”

“Yes,” Miranda said. “I’m not that good, but I’ve always enjoyed it, and I’m certainly not bad either.” She paused. “I’m going to paint the lake, not Jaune and Pyrrha … although, if they stay out there, I might put them in the picture as well. After all—”

“They make a cute pair,” Sunset said, a smile playing across her lips.

“Exactly,” Miranda agreed. “And you can’t go wrong putting a lady in a dress and her handsome beau in the centre of a painting.”

“Some modern artists might disagree,” Sunset muttered.

Miranda snorted. “Okay, yes, you’ve got a point. But my style has always tended towards the traditional.”

Sunset nodded. She was silent for a moment, and for more than a moment as Miranda started to set up her easel by the shore of the lake.

Sunset folded her arms. “How … how have you been?”

Miranda stopped what she was doing. She remained frozen, bent down in the act of fiddling with her easel. “I … there are good days and bad days. There are days when I feel fine, and there are other days when … I don’t. But I think … I think that there are more good days than bad days, lately. I think. There are more good days, and more good nights when I don’t dream of … that thing.”

Sunset nodded but said nothing. There was very little she could say.

Very little that she had the right to say.

“I think,” Miranda went on, “I think that Pearl … she wouldn’t want me to fall apart, you know? She wouldn’t want me to run back home and hide in my room and never come out. She wouldn’t want me to … this sounds stupid; I mean, she’s dead, it doesn’t matter what she would have wanted. But it’s like … it’s like I can hear voice in my ear, telling me ‘get up, girl, get off your ass!’” She closed her eyes, even as she straightened up. “She gave her life to save mine,” she declared. “She sacrificed herself so that I could get away, that … I need to honour that.”

Sunset chewed on her lower lip. “So … what are you going to do?”

Miranda laughed. “I haven’t quite worked that part out just yet, but … it’ll come. I’m sure it will.”

“I … I’m sure it will too,” Sunset murmured.

Miranda glanced at her. “So, what about you, what brings you out here? Keeping an eye on your team?”

Sunset laughed, grateful for the change of subject. “I don’t think they need it here, no; I’m looking into Jaune’s family history.”

“'Jaune’s family history'?” Miranda repeated. “Why … just why?”

“Because I promised Pyrrha’s mother that I would.”

Miranda frowned. “No, sorry, still not getting it.”

“It doesn’t really matter; it’s just something that I agreed to do.”

“Well, good luck finding out anything earlier than the founding of the town,” Miranda told her. “The folks who founded this place really wanted a fresh start.”

“Yeah, I’ve noticed,” Sunset replied. “What’s that about, anyway?”

“If I could tell you that,” Miranda said, “they wouldn’t have done a very good job, would they?”

“No,” Sunset murmured. “No, I suppose they wouldn’t.” She paused for a moment. “I … need to go and talk to Sheriff Arc.”

“Oh, okay, yeah, that’s fine,” Miranda said. “And I have stuff to do here so … good luck with your search, even if I don’t understand what you’re looking for, or why.”

Sunset turned away, feeling honestly glad to get away as she left Miranda by the lakeshore, alone, with the silver waters lapping at the bank before her, the breeze plucking at her dress.

Sunset herself made her way to the Sheriff’s office, a modern-looking brick building, painted blue on the ground floor and then white on the first floor and the roof. A pair of double doors, mostly glass, barred the way inside, but they opened at Sunset’s touch as she walked into a large, open room with a tiled floor. The back of the room was segregated off with cell bars and doors, all of them empty at present, each with an unoccupied bed, a toilet, and a washbasin; various filing cabinets and cupboards lined the walls, while doors led off the sides of the room marked ‘Gun Locker’ and ‘Evidence Locker’ respectively.

Sky was sitting behind one of the desks, the one facing the door, and she looked up as Sunset came in.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Sunset said. “I was just hoping I could have a word.” She glanced at the occupant of the other desk, a young man with blond hair sticking up — all of it, and far too much to be called a Mohawk — on top of his head so that it added another foot to his height. “In private.”

Sky got up. “Come into the evidence locker; Sprout, holler for me if you need me.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the young man, Sprout, said without looking up from his paperwork, or the doughnut he was eating while he pored over said paperwork.

Sky gestured in the right direction, as though the door wasn’t clearly labelled Evidence Locker; Sunset followed her inside, finding a room that was very largely empty, with only a few boxes with labels written in ink upon them and a lot of barren shelves gathering dust.

“You don’t have a lot of crime in this village, I take it?” Sunset asked, as she shut the door behind her.

“Personally, I think that’s a good thing,” Sky said. She turned to Sunset, leaning against one of the empty shelves, folding her arms. “We’re nice people in this town; we treat our neighbours well.” She paused, before saying, “So, what can I do for you?”

Sunset put her out her arm to rest it against a shelf near the door. “I was wondering if the name Crown D’Eath meant anything to you.”

“It’s pronounced ‘Deeth,’ not ‘Death’,” Sky replied. “And … yes, I know the name … that’s a bad story, that is. You found Grandpa’s journal, I take it?”

“You’ve read it?”

“Of course I have,” Sky said. “And I’ve done more than that; he was my grandfather, after all; he only passed away a few winters ago.”

“So you talked to him?”

“Of course.”

“So you know the story?”

“Does it matter?” Sky asked, frowning. “I thought you were interested in our ancestry?”

“I am,” Sunset said. “But if you’ve read your grandfather’s journal, then you’ll know that Crown D’Eath was interested in it too, and I’m pretty sure he found something out. Something that your grandfather didn’t want to hear, or didn’t want to get out, wanted Crown to keep to himself. I wondered if you knew what that something was.”

Sky smirked. “If I knew something that Grandpa didn’t want to be known, what makes you think I’d tell you?”

Sunset snorted. “That’s a fair point.”

“But as it happens, I don’t know,” Sky admitted. “Grandpa Carrot didn’t tell me. He … it was painful for him. You … do you know what Crown D’Eath did, after Beacon?”

Sunset nodded. “He killed at least two people, and then was killed himself.”

“By Grandpa Carrot,” Sky said.

Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “I didn’t know that.”

Sky nodded. “Grandpa went to Beacon, same as Dad and … same as Jaune now, but he didn’t become a huntsman. He became a cop, a watchman as they were called in those days — it was still called the City Watch back then; they didn’t become the VPD until … a little bit later, after he quit, I think. Anyway, he was a cop; it’s what inspired me to join the Sheriff’s Department here in Alba Longa. He was a cop and … and he had to kill his friend. His friend who was killing other people and who had to be stopped. Grandpa … he said that he didn’t regret it, but … it stayed with him. Killing a man, killing that man. It’s why I’m worried about Jaune.”

“Jaune’s okay,” Sunset assured her. “Professor Goodwitch — combat instructor, informal deputy headmistress — is also a trained therapist. He’s seen her. In a professional sense.”

“I’m glad,” Sky said. “I’m also horrified that my baby brother needed to see a shrink, but … I’m glad. He didn’t try and give you any crap about that, did he?”

“No,” Sunset said. “Did you think he might?”

Sky shrugged. “Men around here can be … protective of their … manhood. And Jaune, because he was made to feel like he never had much manhood — and I will own that we didn’t exactly help with that; in fact, we made it worse in some ways — he could be prickly about stuff like that. He didn’t make a fuss, say that men don’t need to talk about their problems, anything like that?”

“No,” Sunset said. “That kind of stuffing … he arrived with some of that, but he managed to get rid of it early on. Being around so many girls has cured him of it.”

“It didn’t when he lived with us,” Sky said.

“Pyrrha is a lot nicer to him than you were, I think,” Sunset said. “No offence.”

Sky glared at her for a moment, before she admitted. “You’re probably right.” She looked away and coughed once. “Anyway,” she said, “Grandpa didn’t stay in the big city long after that. He came back here, back home, became the Sheriff, married, had Dad, raised his son. That’s the way it happens with Arc men; they leave, and then they always find their way back home. Except Jaune won’t be coming back, will he?”

“Possibly, probably not,” Sunset conceded. “That’s something you’d have to ask him, although given Pyrrha’s … everything, it does seem most likely that they’ll live in Mistral. But does it matter? Does it really matter if he moves to Mistral with Pyrrha? With seven sisters, the new generation of Arcs is secure without him, surely.”

“You might think,” Sky said, without elaboration. Sunset didn’t press her; it was hardly her place to do so.

Instead, she asked, “You say that Carrot married. Did he marry Delphi, the huntress he talks about?”

Sky was silent for a second. “No,” she said. “No, he… Delphi was the huntress murdered by Crown D’Eath.”

Sunset’s eyes widened. She didn’t say anything, because there wasn’t anything polite to say to that. To have your partner murder your lover … it might have made killing him a little easier, but that probably wasn’t much consolation. No wonder Carrot Arc hadn’t wanted to stay in Vale.

“And you don’t know why he did it?” Sunset asked. “What drove him to kill?”

Sky shook his head. “Grandpa never said.”

He didn’t want Carrot dating her — or courting her, perhaps, in the old-fashioned vernacular — in the first place; they argued about it, and that’s when everything that Crown knew or thought he knew came out.

And then he killed her. Because of … what?

What secret about someone’s ancestry is worth killing for?


Red leaned forwards. “You seen that new girl in town?”

Despite the fact that it was only two in the afternoon, Ruben took a swig from his beer bottle, before putting it down upon the table at the Moon Over Water. “What new girl?” he demanded. His lip curled into a sneer. “You mean Pyrrha Nikos, Jaune’s new girlfriend.”

“No, the other one, just got in today,” Red said. “She’s got a room upstairs. Name’s Sunset Shimmer. Fine lookin’ girl. Friend of Jauney’s.”

Ruben snorted. “A 'friend of Jauney’s,'” he sneered. “This whole town is gonna fill up with friends of Jauney’s, more outsiders.” He chuckled. “He’s introduced his girlfriend to his folks; maybe now it’s the turn of his bit on the side.”

He felt a hand stroking his stubbled cheek. Jolene’s hand, turning his face towards her.

“Aww, are you jealous, sugar?” Jolene asked, a touch of mockery in her voice. She half-smiled, half-smirked at him as got up out of her seat and sat down on his lap, still stroking his face as she did so. “Am I not good enough for you no more? You want some Mistral tenderness, is that it?”

“I ain’t jealous!” Ruben snapped. He wasn’t. He really wasn’t. He was … he was the man in this family. He always had been. His father had worked like a dog for the Arc family, keeping their farm running while they lived all high and mighty, the famous Arcs of Alba Longa.

And he had done just the same. He worked, he did all the work, he was the one who got things done, he was the man in this family, not Jaune. Jaune had always been a snivelling little girl, playing with his sisters, reading, crying, dreaming. Ruben didn’t have dreams, Ruben didn’t run off to some school way out in Vale, Ruben didn’t turn his back on his family. Ruben stuck around, stuck it out, put up with the fact that his wife was only half a woman and couldn’t have kids, put up with the fact that his sisters-in-law looked down on him.

He put up with it, unlike Jaune, and what thanks did he get? What appreciation? None at all! Not one little bit! While Jaune, that little girl, that runaway, he showed up back home one day, and everyone loved him, everyone fawned over him, everyone thought he’d grown so much.

Yeah, he thought he was such a man now, Jaune Arc. And he had … he had a girlfriend now? A girlfriend like that? A beauty beyond compare, and rich, and famous too?

What did she see in him?

He wanted her, Pyrrha Nikos. More than for herself, he wanted to take her to show Jaune who the real man in this family still was.

Ruben had worked hard and put up with a lot on the understanding that he would inherit the estate when Old Man Arc passed away. Then he would finally be free to kick out all of his wife’s sisters to see how they liked being poor. And after that … he glanced at Jolene. She would be willing to become his wife, once he’d got Rouge out of the way, but by that point, he might want someone a little younger. Someone like Miranda Wells, now that she was back in town; she might not like it, but her parents would see the advantage to it.

Except that they might not if Old Man Arc decided that actually Jaune could be left the estate, now that he’d become a man at Beacon.

Red leaned forwards. Red Beauregard was one of his best friends, perhaps the best, a solidly built guy with short red hair, dressed in a flannel shirt and jeans.

“I heard something,” he said, “listening at their door.”

“Why were you listening at their door?” Jolene asked.

“So I could hear anything worth hearing,” Red said, as though it were obvious, “and I heard that before Jaune brought his girlfriend out here, he was worried she was going to get stolen away by a real man.”

Ruben snorted. “I wish. Seems she’s only got eyes for him, though, God knows why.”

“That doesn’t need to matter though, does it?” Red said.

Ruben’s eyes narrowed. “You got somethin’ in mind?”

“It won’t solve all your problems, but it might make him cry a little bit,” Red said. He paused. “You know, Jolene, you look kind of like Pyrrha.”

“I do not look kind of like Pyrrha!” Jolene declared. “She looks kind of like me! I was here first!”

Red shrugged. “Either way,” he said. “You got flaming locks of auburn hair, ivory skin, and eyes like emerald green.”

“And my smile is like a breath of spring and my voice is soft like summer rain,” Jolene said, primping her hair with one hand. “My beauty is beyond compare, I know.”

It used to be, Ruben thought. She was still pretty enough — and prettier than his wife, that was for sure — but she was starting to get old now; she was past thirty already, and it was taking its toll on her.

“What’s your point, anyway?” Jolene asked.

“The point is that we tell Jaune that Pyrrha is cheating on him,” Red said.

“But she ain’t,” Jolene pointed out.

“Yeah, but he’ll believe it 'cause he was already scared of it,” Red insisted. “Then, you show him some pictures that we’re going to take of me, making out with Jolene, dressed like Pyrrha—”

“Is this whole plan just to give you an excuse to kiss me?” Jolene demanded.

Red’s eyes twinkled as he smiled. “Would you blame me if it was?”

“Not at all,” Jolene said.

“But it’ll work,” Red insisted. “He might even cry. He’ll definitely call her out, maybe in front of the whole family. He might not want to go back to Beacon after all; he’ll just hang around home reminding everybody how useless he is.”

“It’ll be worth it just to make him sad,” Ruben declared. “Are you okay with this Jolene?”

Jolene sighed. “Sure. Why not? Anything for you, sugar.”

“Well, okay then,” Ruben said. “Let’s break up the happy couple.”

Author's Note:

If you've read Terry Pratchett's Men at Arms, you can probably see where this is going.

If you haven't read it yet, you should.

No updates on Wednesday or Friday as I won't be around to post them, the next chapter will be up on Monday 19th September.

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