AN: As of the 22nd of July 2017, I've discontinued this story in order to use the same premise for a rewrite named Dei Gloria est in Corde. I've left this story up out of popular demand, but note that it will NOT be continued. That said, apparently some people still enjoy re-reading it, so...have at it.

AN: 26.11.2016 - Major edits of several parts of the chapter which I felt could have been done better, including several things which may have an impact on later parts of the story.

The world of Remnant is one of dichotomies.

On one hand, there are the great kingdoms; Vale, Mistral, Atlas and Vacuo, where humanity have built their homes and stand strong against all threats. On the other hand there are the out-lands, those places where the creatures of Grimm hold dominion.

The two are clearly defined, the kingdoms long having drawn lines in the sand and declared firmly 'No More'. So clear is the difference in fact, that there are only two ways for a human to not be aware of it. The first is to become a Huntsman or Huntress; one of those individuals whose strength and skill so exceeds all others that the out-lands are survivable.

The other is to never know of a world outside the land in which you are raised.

Qrow Branwen was the former. A Huntsman of unparalleled skill, and equally unparalleled views. He spent less time in the kingdoms than he did in the out-lands, his days devoted to protecting the kingdoms before they were even threatened. He was very literally the best at what he did.

That meant that impressing or surprising him was a feat reserved for the truly remarkable. He hadn't experienced such a feeling in almost a decade, since the news of Summer Rose's death had reached him.

Then again, he hadn't experienced much in the way of feelings after that. The only highlight of the past ten years had been teaching his niece the style he himself used. Ruby Rose was a special one, to have managed to stir something in such a broken excuse for a heart. Certainly he knew that she would go on to greater things – she would be just as much an icon as her mother had been, if not more.

Qrow's work, however, had taken him away from her soon enough – and it had lead him here. To hunting the creature which was tearing through the hordes of Grimm which claimed this part of Remnant as their own, reducing the population by more than ten percent in two months. Entirely on its own.

Ozpin had first sent him the news at the same time the creature had appeared, knowing that the veteran huntsman was spinning his wheels in the search for something that could challenge him. Since then, Qrow had been following its trail, as the (metaphorical) Grimm body count grew higher and higher.

Today, he had found it. He had arrived in time to witness a Goliath's death, the ancient creature toppling with a crash as its form began to vanish. Much of that form had been gone to begin with, however – great chunks of its frame obliterated by the small figure which now stood to the side of its kill.

It was humanoid, Qrow could tell that from here. In fact, judging by the colours his vision could discern, it might well be a human. Of course, the wings didn't uphold that particular theory.

They stretched out behind the figure, as dark as the Grimm's skin and difficult to focus on. Their form seemed to flicker and waver, like smoke in the wind. That comparison was surprisingly apt, as they simply vanished moments later – gone into the ether as if they had never been. That completely revealed the figure to whom they had belonged, and Qrow slowly raised his binoculars to his eyes.

It was when his eyes fell upon the figure that he felt a twinge of shock run through him.

It was a human. A teen at that; certainly not yet a full adult. Fair skin, crimson hair which waved slightly in the wind. A mask covered much of their face, bone-white like a Grimm mask but without the red markings. It reminded him of a theatre production he'd seen in Mistral, once - it ran from the hairline to the chin, seemingly melding to the skull around the edges. There was a nose, two holes for eyes, and a mouth - but the eye-holes were naught but black pits, and the mouth was curved into an eternal, mocking smile.

It almost made him want to shiver.

Ignoring the impulse, Qrow stood, returning his binoculars to the pack which he carried. His weapon in hand, he advanced across the field to the motionless teen. As he took his first step, they spun to face him. He just kept on walking, eyes locked on the tar-black pits in the teen's face. Apart from its sudden motion, it didn't move – it simply faced him.

He examined the figure more closely, his eyesight easily picking out details, even across the distance. The contours of the body told him the figure was male; their absolute stillness told him they were in complete control of their body. The way their hands didn't drift towards any part of its body or clothing told him that they didn't carry a weapon - as if they'd need one, with what he'd seen so far.

It took a minute to cover the distance between them, with Qrow stopping at the distance he felt most comfortable with for duelling. He stared in silence at the mask before him, and the mask stared back, seeming to mock him just by dint of its existence, a sarcastic remark at everything which met its gaze. A palpable tension rose, as even sound itself seemed to shrink back before the intensity of the wills clashing.

A wind played around their feet, one pair of fashionable black dress shoes and one pair of boots which had obviously seen more of the world than most adults. Qrow's darkened crimson cloak lifted slightly away from his dress shirt, which was done in shades of grey. The young man's long black coat, many times torn and just as many times repaired, shifted only minutely, the heavier material refusing to meet the wind's demands.

The red-haired young man spoke first. His voice was cracked and barely more than a whisper, as if it had gone without use for a long time. "Who...?" The tension didn't vanish, but its intensity fell several levels, and Qrow had won the first round.

"A Huntsman. You?" If the statement of his profession meant anything to the masked man, it didn't show.

The teen's head tilted several degrees, as if he was listening to someone - or, perhaps, simply thinking. It took several seconds for them to reply, and once again Qrow felt the urge to shiver - the disconnect between the eternal smile and words emanating from the mask was just plain creepy. "...Lost."

Well, that wasn't surprising. The people who would roam this part of the world were few and far between; someone of the age Qrow was currently assigning this figure deliberately coming here was about as likely as Qrow ever going to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting. Still, an answer was progress. "Okay, so you're lost. Where were you going?"

Another several seconds' silence, during which time Qrow made an effort to keep his body language largely neutral. That mask was playing games with his sanity that he'd thought himself long since inured against. "...Help."

...Well, that was a great help.

Repressing the urge to sigh, Qrow pressed on. "Going for help. For yourself?" A shake of the head. "For someone else?" A nod. "Friends? Family? Village?" The figure nodded to the final suggestion, and Qrow frowned. That didn't make sense.

"There are no villages within a hundred miles." The figure's fists clenched abruptly, and Qrow's grip tightened on his weapon as he fell into his combat stance, suddenly on full alert. Tense moments passed, before the mask broke eye contact with him, facing the ground. A tiny, muffled sound came from beneath it - what a somewhat disbelieving Qrow recognised as a sniff.

"...Was. Gone."

...Oh. Oh. That was...that suddenly shifted the playing field. Qrow knew the out-lands; knew them like no one else, or this part at least. He knew every lake, every cave, every mountain and valley; especially, he knew where every settlement was located, be it a twenty-man permanent camp or one of the self-sufficient towns that held out against all odds.

And when one of those disappeared, he always knew about it. It happened fairly often; it was to be expected, in this world of theirs. But when a Collapse did occur, it was almost always to the last man, woman and child. With the power level this teen displayed, it wasn't inconceivable that he would have made it out. But surely he would have taken people with him, or have gone with a group? Family of some kind, friends? Qrow assumed the kid had been trained, and if he had then he likely would have tried to save at least someone.

Questions led to answers, answers led to more questions. That was the chain of investigation, and Qrow knew he had to keep going hand over hand until he reached the top. Alright, next question... "How long have you been out here?"

That should help narrow it down, at the very least.

"...Don't know. Time...tricky. Years..."

Years? Years? This kid - and Qrow was sure now, being close enough to examine his body shape beneath the coat and analyse his voice and manner of speech through the conversation, that this was a kid - sounded like he'd barely be old enough to shave. How long could he possibly have been out here?

The Huntsman sorted through his memories of Collapses in the area, going back at least two years. Honestly, there hadn't been many; south of Vale led directly to the ocean, and going south-west brought travellers to a point almost equidistant from Vacuo, where a lot of old, powerful Grimm made their homes. As a result, most people set up shop to the north, or directly east of the main kingdom.

But...hadn't there been one in particular that had stuck with him? Ozpin had mobilised damn near Vale's entire resting force of Huntsmen in a desperate response to a distress call, nearly seven years ago - they'd headed due south, almost all the way to the coast, but the entire place had been wiped out before aid could be rendered.

It was impossible. The kid would have been a literal kid at the time, probably not even in his teens. For him to pull through, to live seven years out here?

Just considering the possibility kicked Qrow's imagination into spitting out an image of Yang or, God forbid, Ruby in the same shoes.

And that, of course, brought him around to memories of a desperate sprint through the woods that had very nearly ended in the loss of two of the only things he yet held dear in the world.

He knew the moment his self-control broke, because he sheathed his blade across the small of his back almost without thinking about it. "Kid," he began, voice noticeably softer now. "Tell me - did you come from Arc?"

A sudden flinch from the figure was really all the answer he needed...but the tentative nod which followed was nice too. "...Arc," the teen murmured, sounding pulled between happiness and sorrow as he formed the word. "Home."

Well...well, shit. Qrow stepped forward, and gently rested a hand on the figure's shoulder. They stood almost level; Qrow had maybe two inches on the teen, and found himself momentarily wishing it wasn't the case - looking down into the twin circles of absolutely nothing was...disorienting.

Still, he didn't let that stop him from dragging the kid into a one-armed hug. The same kind he'd used to give Taiyang, the same kind he had shared with Raven, and with his father before her. It wasn't the full-hearted thing he gave his mother, Ruby, Yang, or that he'd once given Summer. It was more an acceptance of an equal than it was a declaration of protection, or an offer of comfort.

Judging by the quiet sobs, and the shaking of the figure's shoulders, they didn't mind.

'Damn...' He thought to himself. 'This is the kind of thing Summer always handled.' Qrow almost winced as the simple thought of her name summoned images of a white cloak, and a smile that was equal parts joyous, loving and mischievous. Stark's pixie, they'd called her - or Puck, or Titania, or a myriad other titles of the same ilk.

One thing was for sure - just like the fae, Summer Rose had always loved children. And they loved her, too.

Qrow was...an entirely different person. But he liked to think he could at least do this much. For the kid...and for her.

The two stood like that for at least half an hour, the sun casting lengthening shadows. When the crying finally stopped, Qrow stepped back to regard his new charge. And the kid would be his charge; the Huntsman didn't have much in the world to call his own anymore, and he'd long since given up on finding anyone to settle down with. On the other hand, here was someone who needed to get back to the world, and who would likely need someone to look after him for a while.

The little part of his mind, the voice which he had drowned in alcohol and blood after his family of four became a black hole of one, was back - and all of a sudden, Qrow Branwen found himself wanting some company for a while. "Do you have a name, kid?"

"...Jaune." Came the reply, voice somewhat impaired by emotion now, but understandable at least.

"Alright then. Jaune, can you take off that mask so I can take a proper look at you?" This was pushing it a bit...but if he was going to build up some kind of trust with the ki - Jaune, then proper eye contact was the first step.

Plus, he really couldn't wait to see the last of that damn smile.

Jaune went entirely still, after a brief surge of movement - idly, Qrow realised that every muscle in the boy's body had just gone to full power, but he wasn't moving in the slightest. That was...some incredible bodily awareness, the kind of thing which usually came about during the final year of a Combat Academy's training time, when biofeedback became second nature - and rightly so, since it was a highly necessary tool in a Huntsman's life.

The silence and the rigidity remained unchanged for a minute, Qrow matching his stillness perfectly, though he left his own body relaxed. Then, slowly, hands which were criss-crossed with faint silvery lines reached upwards, placing themselves on either side of the mask, just below the temples. Then, they started to pull away, and there was a sound somewhere between a crack and a bell ringing. The Huntsman wasn't entirely sure how that was possible, but it was the closest sound to what he'd heard.

Even as the mask came away, there was a crack, and it shattered. The fragments quickly became dust, and blew away in the wind, which raised several more questions for a later date. Still, Qrow was more involved with studying Jaune's face. The first thing he noticed was that, much to his relief, the eyes of the mask were not the eyes of the young man beneath it. Instead, Jaune's eyes were a cobalt blue, slightly red from crying. In yet another question-raising event, Qrow watched as the bloody red pigment seemed to drain from the tips of Jaune's hair to the root, leaving behind a golden blond.

Still, it did fit - with the way the lines of the young man's face stood out, he looked...regal. Almost aristocratic. Excepting, of course, the reddened eyes, tear-stained cheeks, clothing and scars.

And there were scars. Oddly enough, none extended beyond where the mask would have joined his face...but there were several trailing up his neck, and his hands were seemingly made of nothing else.

Again, Qrow was reminded just how much of a miracle it was for Jaune to have lived this long. Then, he got his head in gear.

He reached out a hand again, and eyes which seemed surprisingly young for having seen so much regarded it for a moment before tentatively reaching out and taking it. "It's good to meet you, Jaune. My name's Qrow."

The blond's head tilted sideways a bit, as he pursed his lips. "...Qrow." He said finally, forming the word with almost exaggerated care.

The Huntsman nodded, then released Jaune's hand and turned to gesture back the way he'd come. "I'm headed home, at the moment..." He told the blond. "I could use some company, if you don't mind keeping a dusty old crow from getting lonely?"

If the way Jaune abruptly latched onto him again in another hug was any indicator, he didn't mind at all.

Several hours later, night had fallen, and two dark figures moved beneath the light of a shattered moon, their forms flowing across the ground like oil. They covered miles like others covered centimetres, with no regard for distance or speed. They simply moved, and the world turned around them.

Hours and hours they had run, unfaltering in their path. Grimm attempted to impede their journey: King Taijitu rose from the grass, Ursai and Beowolves leapt from beneath the boughs of trees as Nevermores dived from the branches, and Boarbatusks rolled out from their mud pits. Herds of Prongs occasionally caught wind of the duo, trying to overwhelm them with their sharpened antlers facing forward in a stampede of powerful hooves and heaving flanks. Likewise the Nemeans, who stalked in groups of one or two so-called 'males' and several other 'females', separated only by dint of their resemblance of lions.

There had even been a solitary Goliath, which had engaged the two in an odd display of aggressiveness for one of its kind.

Not once did the two slow, hesitate or break step. Every rush was sidestepped, vaulted or avoided via a slide. Every dive was avoided with a roll, and twisting acrobatics maneuvered bodies which stretched the definition of 'human' away from spikes, jaws, claws and beaks.

Nothing touched them...but the same could not be said for their opposition.

Everything they passed, died. Without much fuss, and without much effort, it seemed. They just...stopped being in one piece after the figures had passed. Heads rolled, antlers detached from cloven skulls, limbs of all descriptions came loose seemingly of their own volition. The cuts were almost a work of art.

Perhaps not the kind which went in galleries...but Qrow couldn't even remember the last time he'd stepped into a gallery, a museum or really anything of the kind, so it was a moot point in any case.

The run continued until the sun began to rise, whereupon the duo sought shelter in a nearby cave. It had contained a Deathstalker when they arrived. Several seconds later, it was entirely Grimm-free, and the two somewhat aching humans sprawled out on the floor.

Watching the light dawn, Qrow felt the burn in his muscles. He hadn't run like this for years, and it was beginning to wear on him. 'If Taiyang could see me now...actually, I'd rather not consider that.' The dark Huntsman felt sure that he and Jaune had covered half the distance back to Vale, and that they would reach the walls sometime during the following night. He said as much, and the blond teen simply nodded. He was in more or less the same state as Qrow, which was impressive in and of itself; the kid's physical condition was at least on par with that of a trained Huntsman, perhaps even more so considering that Qrow surpassed most of his supposed 'peers' by a fairly wide margin.

The two lay there for a moment, and the older Huntsman wondered if Jaune was enjoying the difference between a companionable silence and an enforced silence. He certainly was. He didn't get chances like this often, and it brought to mind the phrase which Summer had managed to get stuck in his head after one particularly self-destructive suicide mission he'd barely made it back from, during the quietly disappointed dressing-down he'd received in the hospital - and he absolutely hated those, because he'd never developed a resistance to them, nor could he ever shrug them off as he did every other telling off or self-righteous tirade.

He'd never, ever shrugged off Summer.

It was for that reason that he remembered what she'd said to him, even now. 'No man is an island', she'd said. And he knew it, now especially. He was perhaps the most solitary man Vale had ever produced, by choice and his own necessity, and yet even he couldn't stay away from civilization forever. Some small part of him seemed to know that remaining human required other humans, and so he went home from time to time so he could see his nieces and brother-in-law. Of course, he and Taiyang had been brothers even before he pseudo-married Raven...it was just a bit more legitimate than a shared drink now.

Reaching into his pack, the veteran Huntsman produced some military issue rations and two canteens. Standard Team STRK procedure - plan for Taiyang wrecking/forgetting one of at least every piece of gear. Even when STRK was nothing but a memory, that was how Qrow remembered his spares.

One of his last bastions of resistance against the onset of time.

One set of rations went to each of them, and the canteens were split the same way. Neither said a word as they went through the motions of fuelling their bodies. Qrow's thoughts wandered, distracting himself from the taste of the rations. 'Modern technology can make coliseums float, break mountains, burrow tunnels to the heart of the planet and cure almost everything under the sun...but it still can't make a decent-tasting ration packet.'

Gathering his thoughts again, Qrow turned to check on Jaune and found him sleeping. Contemplating him for a moment, the warrior decided to emulate him. The sleeping didn't give off negativity, not in the manner of the conscious. Besides this place would still stink of Deathstalker – no Grimm was going to disturb them. So Qrow closed his eyes and let the day go past, as the blond slumbered on beside him.

The two awoke almost simultaneously. Internal clocks attuned to the cycle of day and night, they became aware as soon as the change-over occurred. Rising to their feet, the two men stretched a bit before taking off at the same speed they had maintained the night before, keeping to their course.

Hours and the moon moved by in tandem, as silver light outlined the duo. Just like before, not a single word was exchanged. This was as natural as breathing to both of them; the endless loping across the land, covering ground in the search of...something.

Jaune had been wandering aimless for years now, in search of help for a village which had been reclaimed by time. Qrow had spent more years in these lands than most any other, learning the ways and carrying out his missions. No threat to the kingdoms had managed to make it past him yet, be it human or Grimm – and he planned to keep that record unblemished until death forced him to part with it.

Senses strained to the limit as feet moved like quicksilver, either figure capable of detecting a Grimm before it ever saw them. As the hours and miles rolled by, the occasional monster reared its head. One Ursa was passed by an immaculately dressed figure, and moments later its top half finally realised it was no longer connected to the hind quarters.

Jaune flickered and vanished as they passed a five-strong pack of Beowolves, reappearing next to Qrow seemingly at the conclusion of the step he'd been taking. The pack turned to follow...and fell apart into so much black meat.

If a person had been asked to look at the two figures cutting such a swathe of destruction, they might not have been able to tell the difference if they switched sides. Under the shadowy light of the moon, there weren't a man and a boy, a veteran Huntsman and a survivor – they were death itself, come for its due.

The moon was beginning to set once more when the walls of Vale finally came into view. This was the only thing so far which had actually caused any change in their speed, as Jaune's pace slowed dramatically. Qrow slowed with him, knowing that their run was complete. Besides, the kid would need time for this – and at walking speed, he had about twenty minutes.

As the duo grew closer and closer, Jaune seemed to grow more and more unsure of himself. When they finally reached the walls, the blond reached out tentatively, splaying his fingers on the surface.

When it refused to vanish beneath his touch, he turned to look at Qrow. There was hope burning there, a flame which had been buried, drowned, stomped and suffocated, but had refused to die.

Qrow gave him a half-smile. "It's real. Welcome back, Jaune."

If the guards at the gate nearby thought the tableau before them was strange, they didn't mention it. After all, the look the older man had given them when the blond started to cry silently had been explicit. Approach or interrupt, and you won't have nearly enough time to regret it.

When Jaune was back in control, Qrow rose from where the two had sat down, leaning against the wall as the dark-haired man ran his hand through the blond teen's hair, like he remembered his mother used to do for him once upon a time...and like Summer had taken up doing, later on. It had always calmed him down, and it seemed to help Jaune as well, if the grateful smile he managed to conjure when they stood was any indicator.

Qrow's Double-S Huntsman status got them both past the security checkpoint with nary a question asked, although the blond teen in a coat which was definitely black, but was an absolute mystery beyond that point, drew a lot of strange looks. Jaune didn't seem to notice, blue eyes intent on absorbing everything in front of him with a child's wonderment. He allowed Qrow to keep them moving, always staying just a step behind the man who had saved him. But his focus was on his surroundings, as he tried to take everything in at once.

They cleared the militarised zone around the wall after ten minutes, reaching the outlying areas of the city. Here, Qrow led his charge to an unassuming building which proclaimed that it was a hotel. Even in this dingy environment, Jaune continued to stare, his curiosity and wish for more things to look at seemingly unending.

A room was booked for the night, and the man behind the counter didn't ask for anything from them. Qrow left instructions and several Lien notes with him, and then Jaune followed him to a room on the third floor. The Huntsman made sure the door was secured behind them before reaching into his pack, retrieving a Scroll and activating it.

It was to his ear in moments, and answered in even less time. "Qrow, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Oz, I need you here now. Edge of the Gate Seven zone, piece of shi-" Pausing, Qrow glanced over his shoulder before continuing. "Eh-hem. Cheap hotel that's trying way too hard; you'll find it easily. Tell the guy at the desk you're looking for an old friend."

To his credit, or perhaps to the credit of his years of experience with Qrow, Beacon's headmaster didn't even hesitate for a moment. "I'm on my way. Shall I bring Glynda?"

Qrow turned to look at Jaune, who was trailing his hands along the bedsheets as if they held the key to all life's mysteries. "I think you'd better." He replied.

The call ended and the device closed, before Qrow moved to stand next to the blond. Jaune was depressing the mattress with his fingers, seemingly enraptured with how it bounced back. The Huntsman settled down on the bed which Jaune was currently experimenting on, regarding his charge with dark eyes that found themselves quickly meeting blue.

"Well, we made it kid." He grinned, the cocksure expression one he had long since become accustomed to forming. Jaune smiled back at him, a large range of emotions seemingly trying to express themselves at once. Leaning back and affecting nonchalance, the Huntsman continued. "Since I just got back, I gotta talk with a couple friends of mine. I figure they'd like to meet you, so they're coming here. You okay with that?"

Jaune frowned for a moment, tilting his head in the manner which indicated he was thinking. Qrow knew that was a common gesture, but honestly, the blond used it a lot more than he was used to. It was almost like he was listening to someone every time he thought, but the Huntsman knew full well that he wasn't wearing any kind of communicator. It was one more thing to question later, he supposed.

For now, he watched the frown, which he suspected largely came from the effort involved in using higher logic skills or, more specifically, speaking, clear away into another smile as the blond nodded vigorously. "Yes!"

Qrow nodded approval to himself; after the water, Jaune's voice sounded much better. It put a different spin on the way his features seemed so clear-cut, to realise that he was likely underfed and somewhat dehydrated. Deciding he could at least help with that last one, he got up from the bed again. "While we wait," he declared, "how's about we get a drink?"

It couldn't have been more than a quarter of an hour when someone tapped quietly on the door. Both men in the room had been aware that someone was coming their way since they had first set foot on the stairs, but they had remained motionless until that small sound was heard.

Qrow stood, Jaune not far behind, and made his way to the door. He checked through the peephole, his body carefully kept out of the doorway to prevent any attacks made through the portal from making contact. On the other side were unmistakeably Professors 'Guess-My-First-Name' Ozpin and Glynda Goodwitch, both of Beacon.

Ozpin was more or less the same height as Qrow himself, perhaps a bit taller, and his face lacked many of the signs that indicated aging. He could have been anywhere from twenty to thirty...by appearance, at any rate. His full head of silver hair was the only evidence of his actual collected years. Well, his hair and the force of personality behind his amber eyes. It seemed to darken them noticeably, even as the golden irides shone like the gemstones they so resembled. The glasses he wore did nothing to lessen their force.

He was dressed in the same ensemble he had used for decades. A fairly generic black suit, the only colouration the golden buttons holding his jacket closed. Protruding from its collar was an emerald green scarf, wrapped around his throat and clasped with a metal rosary. The gemstone in its centre glinted a dull red in the light, the shade similar to Qrow's own eyes.

Glynda was only an inch or two shorter than her boss, her straw-yellow hair pulled back into a no-nonsense bun. The only concession she had made was a single ringlet which fell down the right of her face, trailing over the arm of her own glasses. Green eyes, just as sharp as Ozpin's if not as forceful, stood out against her pale skin.

She had donned her usual ensemble as well, a white shirt with puffy sleeves that fed into a black skirt fastened with golden buttons that ended just above her knees. The colouration was fairly similar to the tights and tall socks which covered the rest of her legs. On her back was a cloak, black on the outside but purple within. A line of golden diamonds had been pinned along its back, whilst its trailing end had been fashioned into twisting arrows...like snakes were curling from the fabric.

There could be no doubt that Qrow was seeing two of his oldest acquaintances...but as he had long since learned, there was more to the truth of the world than what could be seen.

Enunciating clearly, Qrow spoke around the doorframe. "Four seasons, four kingdoms."

In return, the silver-haired figure replied, "Four maidens, four burdens."

Qrow spoke once more, "Four guardians, four pillars."

The code was completed by the headmaster, "Twelve to defend, twelve to be defended."

The door was unlocked, the portal pulled open as the two professors stepped quickly inside with only the tap of Ozpin's signature cane. The entryway was sealed again moments later, as Qrow turned back to the Huntsman and Huntress he had called in.

"Oz, I want you to do me a favour." He said by way of introduction, prompting one silver eyebrow to rise in question. "Call the Tinman, and tell him he seriously needs to work on his surveillance tech - cause apparently he's being outdone by teenagers now." This was a manner of speech Qrow had become rather good at over the years; speaking with multiple meanings. To Glynda or, if he could discern the secondary meaning, Jaune, it was a typically 'Qrow' way of saying hello and introducing the next topic. To Ozpin, who had the context of knowing what Qrow had been out and looking for, as well as the reason why he'd sent a veteran Huntsman like Qrow out in the first place, it had several other meanings.

Stepping aside, the dark-haired Huntsman gestured to Jaune, who was standing a bit uncertainly by the window. "This is my new friend, Jaune - formerly of Arc. We met while I was on one of my little walks; seems he's got a knack for pest control."

Ozpin's eyes widened, and Qrow almost raised an eyebrow. It took a lot to get any kind of tell out of Ozpin; widened eyes? That was the equivalent of a full-body jerk from Beacon's headmaster. "From Arc, you say?" The older man murmured, pushing his glasses up his nose as he leaned on his cane. "Then, he was out there for...?"

Qrow just nodded.

The green-suited professor let out a long breath, and behind him Glynda turned a gasp into a quick rush of air between clenched teeth. She, like Qrow, had been one of those deployed to deal with that event years before; the idea of anyone surviving that, let alone remaining alive since then, let alone a child accomplishing it... Well, it would have drawn a reaction from anyone.

Ozpin shook his head, though whether it was due to some internal dialogue or to clear his mind was uncertain. "I see..." He murmured, voice low, before he looked up from where his gaze had ended up focussed on the floor. "Glynda," he began, "we have an empty space in this year's entry class to Beacon, do we not?"

The blonde professor, who had been unable to tear her eyes from the young man standing in silence before them, nodded mutely.

"In that case..." Ozpin muttered, apparently gathering himself. He moved a few steps toward Jaune, each movement carefully measured and slowly implemented. The blond didn't move, but his eyes flickered to Qrow, who gave him the same cocksure grin which had become his trademark. Apparently reassured, when Ozpin reached out a hand, just like Jaune's rescuer had almost two days before, the blond took it with only minor hesitation.

"Your name is Jaune, is it not?" A few moments for Jaune to process the different phrasing, then a hesitant nod. "My name is Professor Ozpin. I'm the Headmaster at a school here in Vale, called Beacon. I believe..." He glanced over his shoulder, where there came a minute nod from the younger man. "That Qrow would like me to take you on as a student. Would you be interested in that?"

Jaune frowned and concentrated, processing the words. Many of his skills had been abandoned in the face of survival over the past seven years, but he'd still had a use for his voice - language had rusted, but it wasn't completely gone yet.

"...If Qrow...thinks so then...I will agree." His halting speech felt clumsy on his tongue, but it was enough for the Headmaster, who nodded.

"Excellent; I shall greatly look forward to your presence at my school." He turned back to face his old friend, who retained his grin for Jaune's sake. "Qrow, you two come with us back to Beacon. We'll settle Jaune into a room for now, and you and I can have a chat in my office." The Huntsman nodded, even as he pulled open the door. Ozpin left through it first, while Glynda stayed behind momentarily.

"Your name is Jaune, right? I'm Glynda." Blue eyes met green, and anyone who thought they knew Glynda Goodwitch might well have been shocked at the warmth they showed.

Jaune didn't know her reputation though, wasn't one of the students who she had been responsible for forging into weapons, wasn't one of the junior Huntsmen just learning about her reputation. He just recognised the look from a long time before, and instinctively gravitated to it. "...Glynda." He repeated quietly. The blonde woman smiled, and nodded.

"That's me." Gesturing to the door, she asked, "Do you want to come with us? You'll need somewhere to stay, and we'll all be nearby at Beacon." The idea of staying close to Qrow, and now Glynda, was quite well rooted in Jaune's mind. As a result, he followed the woman eagerly down the stairs, a smile on his face.

Last to move was Qrow, who was looking out of the room's window and up at the stars. 'Summer...are you watching? I don't know if this kid can be helped or not...but I'm going to try.'

Though his heart twisted just to think of her, he managed a far more genuine, though quieter, grin as he turned away from the window. 'Just...don't go saying you told me so.'

With his mind clear, the dark Huntsman left the room, the door closing with a final click.

The Bullhead which had transported the professors was still in place on their return to the airpad, and the four were flying in minutes. The experience, noted the three adults, didn't seem to affect Jaune at all. He simply looked out of the cockpit over Glynda's shoulder as she flew, once again lost in the experience of being among humans again.

'Where does a child who becomes a man far away from civilization become accustomed to flight?' Wondered Ozpin, gears turning in his mind even as Qrow's had already provided an answer – but one that would remain unspoken until he and Ozpin were alone - and even then, only if asked.

For now, silence reigned apart from the noise of the craft itself, which made the trip to Beacon in about five minutes. The four disembarked, with Glynda immediately breaking off to guide Jaune to his room. The young man hesitated for a moment, looking uncertainly to Qrow. The Huntsman just shot him a grin, clapping a hand on his shoulder encouragingly. "Glynda's good people, Jaune. A bit square, but good people." Glancing over Jaune's shoulder, the Huntsman could easily see the glare his colleague shot him, and it coaxed some genuine emotion which turned his grin into a smile. "She'll take care of you."

Jaune seemingly satisfied with that, the blondes moved off together into the school's dormitory building - thought not before Qrow saw Glynda's glare soften into something more approving.

Meanwhile, Qrow and Ozpin made the trek to the campus' central spire, where they entered the tower's base. They crossed to the elevator leading to Ozpin's office, the doors closing behind them as the Headmaster input a code to allow them entry.

The metal box reached the top a mere ten seconds later, allowing both men to exit the contraption. Of course, contraption was a word better suited to Ozpin's office; a glass ceiling and floor exposed dozens of turning cogs, all moving against each other to achieve the infinitely complex result of accounting for time's passage.

The man himself settled behind his desk, pouring a fresh mug of coffee from his thermos. The silver haired man didn't offer any to Qrow; he knew him better than that. Instead, he activated the holographic display screens in the room, photons stacking atop one another to create a map of the out-lands. Further taps from Ozpin reduced the targeted area to that which was southwards of Vale, where the map became highlighted in shades of red.

"Two months ago, the Grimm numbers roughly one hundred and fifty miles south of Vale began to fall dramatically. Our aerial surveillance showed that the number of Grimm being spotted while on patrol was decreasing rapidly, and eventually showed us that they were being attacked and killed by something too fast for the camera to track."

Ozpin took a sip from his mug, setting it back down on a designated part of his desk. "Though this was hardly a cause for concern, what was a cause for concern was the possibility of those destructive capabilities being turned on our fair city." Here Ozpin began seemingly fast-forwarding the display map, which became noticeably less red. "Today, we count a reduction of at least ten percent in almost all indigenous Grimm species, from Beowolves to Goliaths."

"I sent you on this case because it's what you do best. Defeating threats before they truly become threats. So while I'm hardly going to tell you it was a bad idea," seeing as that would be rather hypocritical with all the people he had let into Beacon over the years, one of that year's applicants being a prime example, "I'd like to know what you're thinking, Qrow."

Qrow sighed to himself, reaching for the flask at his belt now that he was finally out of the field.

Being drunk on a mission was suicide; being drunk when not on a mission was how he prevented suicide

Taking a swig, he replied, "Honestly, Oz? I don't know if I'm really thinking right now." He let out a dark chuckle, though it was tinged with some nostalgia. "Maybe it's Summer's ghost getting to me in my old age, but I couldn't just leave him out there. Can't just adopt him - no history, no paperwork, too old, and of course, me." Didn't need much more explanation than that. "He needs an education, but I can't just put him in a normal highschool. He'd never fit in...plus, operating at his level, he might break someone on accident."

Ozpin visibly flinched at hearing Summer's name, something he hadn't stopped doing in over a decade. Qrow didn't bother counting that as a tell - everyone flinched when someone mentioned Summer, even if it wasn't always a visible reaction.

Once he'd shaken the overwhelming regret from his mind for the moment, Ozpin nodded to himself, assimilating the information. Really, Qrow had probably made the best call; Beacon was just about the only place for Jaune at the moment. "I see. I have to agree, old friend; we are likely the only facility in Vale, perhaps all the Kingdoms, where he can re-integrate."

Qrow bowed his head, acknowledging Ozpin's acceptance. "I'm kinda sorry I can't just take him for myself," he admitted. A raised eyebrow from Ozpin prompted him to continue. "It's just...you know I've not been...well, lately." It made him uncomfortable to admit it, but it was probably about time he got his act together. Summer would have kicked his ass by now, and the only reason Taiyang hadn't done it was because he was even more broken than Qrow himself was, even if it didn't show as much.

The Headmaster seemed to know what that admission cost him too, since he just nodded to acknowledge the point. "Well, when I found him out there...I guess it was some kinda jolt I was needing, 'cause all of a sudden it just felt like..." The Huntsman reached into the air, as if grasping for something only he could see. "It felt like there was finally something I could do. Something that mattered, but something that was...my own." His expression was a touch frustrated, but Ozpin's was a mix between proud, happy and amused.

"I know very well how you feel, Qrow." He told the man, smile still in place.

The Huntsman snorted. "Yeah, I bet you do." Shaking his head, Qrow continued. "He'll do well here, Oz. He's missed out on a lot, sure, but he was already getting back into the swing of things when we got here. He's got all the power he needs, and I'm betting now that he'll soak up whatever he's taught like a sponge. He's going to do a lot of good, one of these days."

Ozpin's smile grew a little wider. "Much like another young man I once knew."

Qrow snorted once more, though it was a rueful noise now. "You say that, but just look at me now." He gestured to himself, and to his dust-covered attire.

"I am." The Headmaster responded simply.

A short bark of laughter echoed around the room, and Qrow shook his head. "You got me there, Oz." Shaking his head once more, he sat back in his chair. "Still...you don't suppose I could hang around a while, do you? See him settled in, at least?"

The Huntsman seemed pensive, and a touch nervous - but it just made Ozpin's smile wider. "Well, I don't see why I should do anything if a dusty old crow happened to start roosting on the school grounds. Nor if a concerned family member, who also happened to be a friend of the faculty and a teacher himself, were to take some time off and reconnect with a few old friends."

A quiet sigh of relief emanated from Qrow, followed by an even quieter "Thank you."

Ozpin didn't respond, just tapping several spots on his desk, and bringing up some footage taken by the fish-eye lens in Qrow's top button. He always wore it in the field, and the information on it had uploaded to Ozpin's private network, separate from Beacon's network, which was separate from the main Valian network, as soon as the Huntsman stepped into the office.

He fast-forwarded, reaching the point he was interested in, watching a young man they were labelling as at or around seventeen years of age take apart a creature likely several tens or even dozens of times his age with a slightly creased brow.

Qrow watched too, and eventually Ozpin paused the playback on an image of Jaune's masked face. The silver-haired man studied it intently from behind steepled fingers, expression inscrutable. Eventually he turned to look at the other man in the room. "So, he's this strong already..."

The Huntsman nodded grimly, taking another swig from his flask. "Bad enough seeing the recording. Standing there with him? It was almost like that time with the Medusa. Like an almost physical weight."

Ozpin nodded slowly, rewinding the footage and playing, pausing more on the close-up of the mask.

"It's definitely as you've said..." He murmured. "His power and his physical conditioning are already at their limits, and his stance..." A questioning look was shot at Qrow, who nodded.

"Perfect self control. I'm pretty sure he's already got biofeedback down."

Shaking his head, Ozpin turned back to studying the image. "So count his spacial awareness as being on that level as well, if his Aura was already saturating the area... So, he's almost the equivalent of a tailored solo-Huntsman. However, he lacks a weapon or particular fighting style, and he likely has little to no experience in being part of a unit."

Qrow didn't bother to add anything; a teacher he may have been, but Ozpin had taught him, alongside hundreds of others over the years. This man had forgotten and likely re-learned more about being a teacher than Qrow would ever know, and he didn't need advice on how to do his job.

As Ozpin thought and made plans, he stared into the empty eyes of Jaune's mask, taking a sip of coffee in the face of the abyss. "May you always be cursed to live in interesting times..." he whispered to himself, even as Qrow rose silently from his chair and left the office, ready for the day to be over.

Many corridors away, blue eyes lit upon every available surface, pulling novelty and knowledge from them as one might pull water from a sponge. He had been put in a quiet room, away from all the other students for now, and instructed on how to use his shower. Clean clothes were laid out on the bed as well; jeans, a white t-shirt and a black hoodie with red lining, plain black boxers and socks, a pair of trainers... He didn't question that they fit him; he was just happy that he had something new to wear. His coat was hanging up in the room's wardrobe, and he decided to look into repairing it properly at some point. It had served him very well over the years, and with proper materials he could probably make it last longer yet.

Sure, expanding it and sealing tears or gaps with Grimm hides worked, but it didn't have the same texture as the base material.

He'd left the even more heavily damage shirt and trousers in a crumpled heap on the floor; for some reason, he'd never formed the same kind of bond with them as he had with his coat and boots, the footwear in question being situated beneath his coat in the wardrobe until he could repair them too.

Having running water, hot running water, was a luxury he had all but forgotten - but it was a heavenly change after years of bathing in streams and lakes, constantly on the lookout for water-dwelling Grimm, or monsters approaching from the surrounding area. He almost felt like some kind of nonphysical weight which had been building for years now was being washed away down the drain, and he felt himself begin to properly relax.

He was back. Seven years, they said it had been but he'd made it.

Thanks to Qrow, he'd made it.

Qrow seemed to think that he should enroll in Beacon; so, he'd do it. He was fairly sure that Beacon was where Huntsmen went to get training, if his admittedly somewhat fuzzy memory wasn't deluding him; so, he had his goal.

He would become a Huntsman. He would make his rescuer proud...and he would fulfill his promise.

Right after he found more soap.

Author's Note

Hello, reader! 'Oh God, another OP Jaune story' you may be thinking to yourself...well, I'm not gonna beat around the bush; yeah, that's what this is. I'm fond of having characters who start off as being really powerful – it means that more focus can be placed on development as a character instead of as a warrior, and when that character eventually fails, it hits all the harder. Of course, I know that this idea has been done to death by the RWBY community...but I can't help but want to write this, and my fingers have more control over my body than my brain at the moment.

This piece will probably be updated infrequently; just whenever I finish a chapter of Fractured Heart and find that I have no work to do, but I still want to write. So be forewarned!

I hope you enjoyed reading this even partially as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you have any comments or criticism, please leave a review and I'll make sure to get back to you. Enjoy your day!