The man laughed at him as he took a hearty swig of a cold brew. Pale but aged features colored rusty orange by the fireplace's flame.

He was enjoying himself in the 'finer things', a lot more than the usual people that'd come by to town here.

Like that cup was his only friend.

The boy blinked from his seat, hunched over and feeling real small compared to the man. The lean muscles and scruffy chin was the kind of look he's been wanting lately, seeing so many other tough guys coming by with it.

"Ah!"

The man said, finishing his swig, raspy voice echoing atop the casual talk of the other patrons.

"That's good. Good shit, man. You don't find this back in the city. They skimp out on the murky stuff lightweights don't handle well."

He blinked again, because that sounded kinda gross, and scary. But the man didn't care for bad wording, more focused on wiping his jaw of spittle and drink. He looked at the boy then, face crinkled in a drunken stupor. It made the boy uncomfortable, and wondering if he'd be the kind of man to handle their drinks like that.

"You're an interesting little fella, ain'tcha?"

The man put his drink down, leaning an elbow on the table, and pointing a jagged finger the boy's way. Eyes harsher than his words.

"Where'd you come from? I'm sure the tinmen out there don't appreciate kids at the bar."

The boy opened his mouth-

/-/

Oh, c'mon now. Jaune told himself, restless. Almost there…

From the shuffling treeline behind him, out popped a couple of Beowolves. Nothing special, Just clumped fodder on it's way. Gnashing teeth and extended claws piercing the mucky dirt. Spit, sticks, and the smell of absolute hatred in the air at their wake.

Like all Grimm, they wanted his blood. To see him fall and bleed under the teeth snapping at the bushels and trees crumbling against them. Without any care for the world they've inherited, and matter of fact, howling at their destruction for it in spite of it.

He used moments like these to tell himself how well they deserved to die. How those ugly maws should've never gotten a chance to even exist near nature-and honestly the world-they've fucked over for generation to generation. An un-living plague on them all.

Knowing that? It hardened his heart and focused his mind.

Grunting, Jaune turned a tight corner around a tree, seeing that clearing coming up. A few more meters and he'd get a good opportunity to swing his sword around. The bulkiness of his armor made him cautious like that.

He held his Crocea Mors close, though, and split the bushels blocking his path in two. The beasts didn't stop their careless advance in the meantime however. Not by a long shot, as when he hopped over the crackled remains, two Beowulf's ripped a meaty hole in the area. Immediately sending pieces of bark and tree limbs his way.

Fortunately, It didn't do any harm. His Aura combined with his armor blocked any biting debris off and away.

Mostly the latter, its golden surface remained strong and dent-less under the assault. Branches thunked off and bark barely made a sound, kinda exploding on contact. As it should be.

He didn't shill his lien-notes and kingdom-coins for crappy gear, that's rule numero uno for Grimm hunting.

After braving the flung plant life, he found himself in the middle of the clearing. The risen sun glaring down on his shining armor, and nothing but the moist dirt caked beneath his grieved feet.

Jaune turned to where his enemy's coming from, feeling his under-armor chains chaff and adjust to his tune while doing so.

They were a fair distance off, forming a peudo-unit with the smallest ones leading the way. Rushing to him, with probably bad intentions, if the hundreds of other Grimm he's killed told him anything. You should never assume anything with glowey red eyes and a pension for murder was good. Or fucking capable of it, Oum above.

The one with the pointiest bone plating gave a roar of challenge, and he smirked. Sliding into a firm stance, raising his blade to his shield.

"I'm waiting for ya, fucker." He told them, bending his knees into stance, and sliding his blade halfway to the hilt over his shield. "I'd like to hurry this up though. You're worth a good night's sleep back at town."

Or, in other words? Five hundred coins and whatever the innkeeper's got cooking for tonight. A mighty fine deal, he'd say.

It's why he's figured to lead the bulk of their entire den out of hiding and into the open. Where his blade-keeping that quality shine-could give the hellhounds a good end. They're a small lot anyways, no bigger horde'll think twice about some random Alpha and his handful of hellhound goons.

Those hellhounds came onto him then, spreading out across the clearing. Seething one and all. Spiking whatever armor they had in some half-baked display of dominance. But they knocked it off when a boney Alpha behind the pack barked twice, knowing their place from that, and falling into a rhythmic dance around him.

Without any kind of hesitation, as is how Grimm operates. Especially pack ones. Casein-point.

Jaune sighed, clanking his sword against the shield. Shouting to the enemy as they began their supposedly effective trot around him.

"Make it easy why don't ya!" He told them collectively, but looked at that boniest bastard in particular, and his stupidly reserved mug. "Even you? Have you got a brain now, all've a sudden?"

It seemed so, as the beast stayed back, letting a smaller one rush in on his blind spot. A silent one, that'd make a good pawn to hunt down villagers in the night with.

Wasn't all that impossible, too. The only proof that something moved was the thuddy fwoosh of Beowulf claws hitting soil. Right before lifting back off for another bounding leap, at least ten or so feet in the air.

Which is exactly how that first Beowulf came to him. Claws from up above heading towards his throat. A dirty, but clear kill in theory, not gonna lie. It'd shut a village girl up nice and easy.

Shame for the Grimm-spawn, though, that he pegged the fucker on his shield in a flash. And when he turtled his stance around, the rest of the Beolwolves got to watch him launch their comrade.

Ass-first, and into the air whilst it's claws flailed for contact-

Along with it's freshly disembodied head, frozen in a face of what he'd call 'demonic joy' so many Grimm often enjoyed prowling around with. The kind of thing he'll always like seeing end in abruptness, as its life poofed away right before his eyes.

Matter in fact, he kinda liked this. Really liked this. He's not an actual 'huntsman' yet, but that spirit of wanting to kill the killers was with him. It was a holy feeling, he'd think. And a good one for society overall.

Idly, he realized that if Grimm could bleed? Crocea Mors, with her shiny length gouging his prey right through, would've got soaked right then. Him too. Cutting Beowulf neck by the flimsy scruff, where their throat should be, oughta make a nice spray. For actual non-demons, that is.

The thought made him smile. Yet his nerve made him prepare for more.

After the swift death, the Beowulf corpse hit the ground not running. Poofing into nothingness immediately afterwards.

First the body, then the thumping head playing hopscotch with the soil.

The ensuing upset amongst the remaining pack gave Jaune good time to recenter. So, he focused on the duo who're just inching a little bit too close.

They really were, too. A set of small fry rushed him together, hateful fervor in their beady blood-red eyes. That buddy of theirs-now smoky black Grimm shit heading up to the stratosphere-meant something, ish. Even if one Beowulf's life amounted to a blind fury after it's death.

Which is kinda funny and morbid when he thinks about it hard enough.

He couldn't say he cared, though. Never did. It's a hero's duty to strike evil-regardless of his sympathies pertaining to it-wherever the hell he's gonna find it. Especially when being somebody armored as good as him.

So he pumped the Aura in his veins a bit harder, and kicked off.

Armor like his usually stopped that kinda airborne devastation from happening. But, as it were, he's got a good Aura pumping through his veins. It made him feel like lighting half-way through the trajectory. A bubbly lighting that numbed itself out for a good strike.

And it did. He rushed with his guard nice and turtled, leaping-with a quick Aura boost-a good three feet to them. Right into the first Beowulf's own guard, acting less like a guard for the Beowulf and more an opening he found mid flight.

He used it as such. The heavy CLANG of his shield bash against the Beowulf's upper body thusly rang out. Also un-centering the beast back, leaving it to stumble on its hind-legs, just long enough for him to spot another opening.

So he landed not on the ground exactly, but against it's boneless chest, as it leaned back from the Aura enhanced bash. From that vantage point, he already dug his blade in. The unprotected underbelly making way under his steel real quick, like Grimm-budder, if that's a thing.

It whimpered to the heavens above, disintegrating like it's buddy before it.

He knows the drill now. Keep them on their feet and not let the other half of the set start hollering about its other buddies' defeat in a big tissy. So Jaune hit the ground rolling. Right up the beast's way, bringing his sword up in a quick horizontal. All whilst he slid himself on over across the mucky soil staining his armor a dirt-brown.

And it worked. His blade connected.

The second Beowulf's right forepaw went up and away. Making the once owner of a perfectly functional evil-murder-claw stumble around for a moment. Trying to literally re-foot itself into position, it's pathetic growls sent his way a funny byproduct Jaune took quick enjoyment in.

Or tried to send his way, because the second those fangs curled at him, Jaune slashed its growling face asunder. Finishing off the sad set, with the second beast's lower jaw hitting the ground in the deft absence of life. And like the rest of it's comrades?

The Beowulf met it's well deserved end, dissolving into nothingness.

Like all soulless shit-beasts should do, and will do, whenever he finds them.

Jaune smirked-

Then grunted, as a large presence came onto him from the right. Those razor sharp claws kneading into his shield likely aimed to tear his neck out from behind, without him knowing a damn thing about it. Even when caught, it's attempt at quick murder didn't stop, hurriedly scratching itself across his shield's surface.

It's lucky he blocked on time.

Otherwise? He wouldn't have an opportunity to turtle down on his haunches. Tanking the sneak-attacking Alpha Beowulf's mass as required. Tough stuff, sure, but he pushed through and locked his place up pretty tight. From the way his grieves dug into the soft soil, it'd be impossible for the beast to straight up bowl him over now.

It'd have to slash him down, with all his very functional armor covering every inch of him, besides his head that is. Not to mention his bubbling-and still very healthy-Aura on standby.

Jaune might've slipped up a moment ago, but he's got the experience to know what's up as things fall out of-or into-place.

His opponent dug it's hind claws into the ground, to the point he couldn't see the nerve endings pierce the soil. This then let it lean itself over him and-as Jaune shouldn't have jinxed himself with-rain after claw from above. Possibly to him as well. The position also locked their places for the foreseeable future, forcing Jaune and Alpha Beowolf into a messy battle of wits or attrition.

Maybe both. Though if the bastard intended for that or not?

Eh, it's possible. This one's smart enough to have buddies circling him, and since it was the embodiment of evil in their day and age, nothing's off the table.

So Jaune tightened himself down into position. After that, he condensed his healthy amount of Aura-likely eighty percent-from the inside out. Feeling it spark from the soul, to his armor, and even to his guarded blade. Which, at his side behind his pressured shield, had every opportunity to even the odds.

Jaune's learned to multitask pretty well, so juggling between a strike and keeping his stan-

He winced, as a claw reached over his shield and to his cheek. It's thinness cut through his Aura like a precise paper-cut, leaving what he'd think to be a perfectly bloody red line across the face. The numbness was familiar like that.

Right. Don't get cocky. It's small fry overall, but fry nonetheless. He told himself, squinting intensely at the black mass upon him. You'll fuck yourself over if you do. You can't afford that when killing Grimm, Jaune.

It sounded true in his head, so Jaune roared to that, and pushed against the Grimm ruling over him. Another boosted shield bash did the trick, which gave him just that wiggle room to slide underneath the stunned bone-bastard. Underneath his tail and off to the side.

The enemy wasn't dumb with how it fights things, though as before he could pop off a quick slash, it turned itself in place. Bringing it's claws on down in a vertical slash of its own. Howling it's annoyance at whatever the hell Grimm would call humans.

He caught that claw with a better focus, holding the thing there while finally swinging Crocea Mors into the beast. Smack dab atop it's forearm's bony plates, an Aura-enhanced slash crackling with his power.

The white-lighting, strong as it was, didn't pierce the hard stuff right then. His enemy growled for his folly to happen again in result, a growl out it's gaping maw dripping with dark saliva-

But, as it were, the beast pushed him back some more, making use of that forearm he failed to cut. Grabbing him by the shield and sending him a dozen feet off.

He remembered how his muscles worked in the meantime, as everything just wooshed on by, and thusly turtled down most of the way thanks to his technique. Sliding his stance ankle deep across the dirt, like a mini ditch.

Collected, Jaune kept his shield up from the distance off, and watched his enemy come. Every stomp and growl, with claws raised down towards him with violent promise. This furry murderer was on its way and Jaune had to think of a plan.

Being him, and what he's bumped metallic uglies with before, that didn't take too long. Jaune just needed one thing: willpower caked in a shit-load of confidence.

Oh, plus his sword n' stuff. It's kinda how he kills things.

And he'll use it to kill the Alpha Beowulf almost upon him, holding those dangly claws in preparation of a strike-

Which happened, but Jaune rolled away from the overpowered move digging into the dirt, exactly on time. He had other plans for the Grimm, after all. Ones much grander than anything it really deserved for killing innocent people.

As it struggled to pull out its murder paws, he filled himself up with Aura. Again.

Beowulfs were small fry, and to an extent, so too were Alpha Beowulfs. If you're a demonic wolf beast with only five followers, then you're likely the kind of creature to fuck up some basic tactics here and there. Big time tactical errors too, as while it momentarily ignored him, Jaune held his blade tight.

Soon enough, Crocea Mors sparked with his Aura, giving him a good opportunity in bum rushing the beast on dirt-caked grieves. Bad timing though, as it turned itself at him the second he built momentum. Roaring into another vicious volley of claws, this time with it's other paw more off to the side-

It didn't matter though, because he's gonna get things right.

Jaune grunted his exertion. Chopping off it's arm like this was a big no-no right now, since no openings really presented itself whilst it met his rush head on. So he pierced it the best way he could've hoped for. Digging his steel half-way to the hilt, exactly atop that one uncovered joint connecting forearm and arm.

Accuracy like this was a rarity for him, more luck of the draw than technique most days. It's that, as both arms have armour holes here and there, Jaune simply noticed the Grimm's convenient opening. A narrow one at that, which his blade neatly stabbed into at the last second. Causing the fuzzy Grimm arm bending over him to stagger the rest of the stupid wolf bastard close.

Also, hilting it half-way let him pull out in half the time, or so common sense would dictate. He readied just for that.

One breath, one movement, and one breakthrough is all it's gonna take to kill this thing now and Jaune knows it. Everything he's learned so far told him as much.

These kinds of Alpha Beowolves, with their tiny packs and mediocre sneaking skills, compared to other beasts of their ilk? They're as common-and incidentally weak-as you get them on the Valen Frontier. However; Vale's expansive forests across the continent don't have many humans going about with colonization. For obvious reasons related to, well, the fact nobody likes living near these bastards in the first place.

This lets Grimm like these spread out and bulk up in humanity's absence. Which this pack did sometime a few weeks ago, killing the local blacksmith's daughter in one of their many run-ins with decent people just trying to survive.

Jaune saw the poor man himself, how he beamed in delight when he heard that Jaune's willing to take the bastards down. Thanking him not even for killing the bounty yet, but just being willing too.

Needless to say? Jaune's got someone else's beef to continue here. As both the innkeeper and his inhabitants reported that, either by ordering it or eating her up itself, this Alpha Beowulf slaughtered the girl without leaving any trance.

Well…besides a trail of blood down the dirt road leading in and out of town.

It's disgusting on every Monty-given level he could think of, so Jaune treated this beast as such. Roaring his rage up at this hulking-bastard bearing down on him. The thoughts of that girl's face, when it must've eaten her limb from limb, fueled his adrenaline while simultaneously disgusting him.

He made use of those emotions, like a good huntsmen oughta, and went for it's remaining arm in a punishing vertical.

That did the trick, as this time his aim wasn't off.

Under Monty's shiny sun, another Beowulf arm went flying across a dirty forest clearing. Disappearing without a trace whilst it's owner staggered back in agony. As it's final minutes terrorizing their Sanus began, it pushed Jaune away with its remaining claws for what he could only guess was comfort, using that time to cuddle it's funny looking stub close.

It looked mad, then. Absolutely fuck-all furious red orbs of hate locked onto Jaune and only Jaune. A mighty roar filling the clearing in it's noisy suffering.

But in a weird way, he actually empathized with the evil bastard's plight. Having your entire flock of demon wolves-small and shitty as they were-decimated right before your eyes did a number on a beastly mob boss, ya know?

Jaune wouldn't, but he digressed with a grin, as his enemy began rushing in. Most calmness out the window now, compared to the moments prior. Leaving this Alpha Beowulf with nothing more than extra armor and a not extra arm, compared to the pack it had-

Or did...he felt his grin widen.

"Oh, you're approaching me?" He asked, sarcasm dripping, as those once soil deep claws sprinted for him. "Not much of a leader anymore with all your buddies gone, eh?"

It came into range, bringing it's claws down for that all-too-predictable volley. Roars of enraged misery coming out with it-

None of that stuff matters, though, as Jaune readied for the claw like he should've done earlier. After impacting the beast on the right did he do just that. Exactly when the abruptness numbed it out.

By that, he means he jabbed Crocea Mors directly in its throat. Hearing-and doing-absolutely nothing afterwards, until out came a grumbly whimper. When it did? He twisted his blade out and cut it back in.

The result was another-albeit larger-Beowulf head thudding against the clearing floor like a lightweight bowling ball. And more importantly, the enemy's boney body hitting the dirt in tandem with that head.

Leaving him alone in the silence. To his dull thoughts, in conjunction with the dull-buzzing of this birdless-and Grimmless-clearing all around him.

He sheathed his blade, covered in metaphorical Grimm-blood as it was, knowing that he's done pretty good today. Barnaburg won't need guys like Jaune for the next few months at the very least. Unless some big Grimm incursion occurs nearby or whatever. Yet chances for that are slim when being so close to Vale proper.

"Annnnnd there it is. That's another one biting the dust." He muttered to himself, smiling. "Haven't a point of reference, but if that's not Beacon material? Then, well, I don't know what is."

Nobody answered him, so he carried on, with his heavy sheath on his golden shoulder. With a grimy and dirty face too, but all things considered?

Today's a good day. He hoped the blacksmith would feel the same.

/-/

"It's done."

He took his place on the tavern wall. Shoulder leaned against it's wooden exterior, while he watched the Blacksmith and innkeeper standing by the front door.

They've-by the looks of it-been hanging around here much earlier than him. A bulky man wearing his smithy garb and a less-so bulky man with a casual service garb. Both turning his way the second he showed up.

"Four Beowulf, one Alpha Beowulf. Roughly twenty or so miles away...say," he squinted off at it and snapped his fingers, then pointed a hand out to the mountainous treelines above. "West from here. One of those cramped side-caves by the mountainside overlooking everything. I dragged them out and into an open clearing. Picked them off one by one after that."

They absorbed that in silence. He went on.

"It's...uh, hard to prove I did, but i'd hope you believe me when I say they're dead. All of them"

He gave the blacksmith a small smile. Definitely unable to heal the wound in the gruff man's heart, but a smile of condolences nonetheless.

"Those Grimm died as they'd ought to: by the sword, crying for the devil that made them." He's probably pushing their boundaries here, but Jaune felt like adding some more. "Your girl's soul in The Heavens is avenged, sir. I hope that's enough."

Those men shared a look for a long moment. Until that blacksmith, after taking a heavy breath, nodded to their barman companion and stepped forward. Jaune prepared himself for another heartfelt thanks-

But jolted in his place by the tavern wall, as the blacksmith wrapped his bulky arms around him, placing his head in between a sweaty-but oddly comforting-shoulder. It's not the strongest hold in the world, by Aura standards, but Jaune hadn't the heart to wiggle out from genuine affection.

He's...lacked this stuff for a while. A long while.

"...T-Thank you…" he heard the man whisper, a pitch that's surely unusual for him on the regular. It sounded broken, like a sword chipped with wear and tear meeting its final throes of combat against Grimm hide. Shattering in the process.

"Thank you for this. I...I know it won't change much for us, but I also hope the wife and I could be happy with that someday."

He felt the man pat his arnored back, chafing the chains there.

"She'd probably get over with it faster than me. Holy-Spirit and Holy-Oum candles are her specialty, not mine." The man gave a sad chuckle. "Lord above, I can hear her already. She'll say my Scarlet's glaring at me all the time now. Saying I should man up like I usually do."

Jaune enjoyed hugging back, as they stood there for a long second. Crazy rare moments like these make the world just a little bit more tolerable.

This strangely kind blacksmith stopped this soon enough though, pushing off his shoulders and giving him a smile of his own. Somber, yet a silver lining somewhere deep within.

"You're sure your armors good?"

"Yeah."

"The sword too?"

He snorted goodnaturedly at the man. Hand fondly on his sheath.

"Oh yeah. If anything I got's good? It's this beauty." He patted her for good measure. "It's been by my side ever since I started hitting the road. Whenever I do come back though…?" He nodded to the man with a grin. "I'll consider taking you up on that offer. Crocea Mors hasn't a scratch, but this tin metal?"

A gauntlet wrapped on his chest, producing a hollow thud.

"It's scratched to shit, ya know? Grimm claws aren't the greatest look on your armor. Well, for me that is. Some people like to keep that stuff as an 'artistic' design, showing off their 'almost battle scars' or something."

"Hm. What do you think then?"

"Me? Oh…" Jaune shrugged. "I don't care. I'm just a dude heading to Vale proper, who happened on Barneburg during the route there. But If I'd put my two cents in? Ehhh...I'd say fashion doesn't matter when it could cost you your life on the battlefield. It's better off to be flashy only when you can."

The man looked his golden armor over with a raised brow.

"And you can?"

"Mhm." He, without shame, held his arms out. "I'm pretty strong. Plus, the shininess makes the Grimm wanna kill me instead of the innocent people who can't defend themselves. 'Know what i'm saying?"

That got him funny looks from both men. He tilted his head.

"What? Am I wrong?"

Now they laughed together. It was a contagious and wheezy sound he couldn't help but confusedly join in with. Even when at his expense.

After they-hands on their stomachs-stopped their random merry making, Jaune shook his head, wanting to question all this. Fortunately though, the blacksmith spoke up first. Wiping a loose tear from his wrinkly eye.

"Sorry 'bout that, really." He took a liberal moment to chuckle some more, looking over at his fellow man doing the same. "It's just that we do know what you're saying, Jaune, and you're right! Matter of fact, it makes a whole lotta sense in hindsight, don't it Barry?"

Barry, the innkeeper guy that gave him the bounty in the first place, looked to his-what Jaune had to assume-friend with equal humor.

"Absolutely. Why, with his setup like that…"

They said nothing more afterwards, leaving Jaune profoundly confused again as to what the hell they're on about-

Until he got it, and groaned.

"Oh. You mean a knight, right?" He really should've expected this shit. "A knight 'in shining armor?'"

Their grins practically ate the shit they spoke, and when he gave them a look, they bursted into laughter again.

"Yeah haha, very funny guys." He shook his head. They're taking their sweet time in taking the piss out of him for this. "That's the third time this month someone thought that! Like, from three different fuckin' towns! C'mon now!"

Not to mention all the 'Mr. Knight' and 'Mr. Just' jokes-all across the Valen Frontier mind you-people also make, by virtue of him being a so-to-speak freelance bounty hunter at a young age. Where the 'Mr.' part of that comes from? Jaune hadn't a clue, it feels like the universe thought him it's eternal laughing stock sometimes.

When the two grown men finished laughing it up, the blacksmith spoke up first, patting Barry on the back.

"Thanks for the laughter you two. I'm heading off now," making due on that, the blacksmith began stumbling off now, giving a wave from behind as he went. "So long, Jaune. If there's anything else you need, don't be afraid to stop by. The forge's always open for good men on the road, especially ones who've done me a damn good service."

Jaune watched the man go. Quiet as he went, all the way to that Stoney house on the other side of the road. Whilst this finished up, Barry coughed into his palm, sending him a look.

"He needed that, I think. Louis always liked using a good chuckle to cope with things"

"Don't we all though?"

"...Hah, I guess so." Barry shifted a hand through his barman's garb. His front-most pocket, where he fished out one moderately sized brown-pouch for Jaune's eyes to see. "Anyways, no more dreary philosophy for the day. it's a headache even barmen like me can't keep up with."

He jangled that hefty pouch around, producing a familiar sound of loot ripe for the taking Jaune knows and loves.

"So, here's some coin. It should reward your efforts well enough."

He tossed the bag, which Jaune caught and observed. Finding lots and lots of kingsmen-coins for his enjoyment. A hard-currency, often thrown around the wilds, in lieu of actual dust-manned digital systems. People were into the old ways out here. Which, in the case of these little golden goodies piled high in his puch right now, Jaune don't mind one bit.

"As for sleeping arrangements? Well, my friend, I'll give you three nights. All on me."

When Jaune gaped at the kind treatment, Barry added onto that.

"Louis, like I said, really needed that. Nobody with an Aura comes down here anymore, let alone to help the locals with any of their problems." Barry must've seen him blink. "And before you ask? The veteran huntsmen in town can hardly lift their guns these days. It's almost a blessing you showed up here when you did."

"Huh. Okay. That's cool, but…" he licked his lips. "That's all it takes?"

"That's all it takes." Barry repeated, brow raised. "Unless the golden knight wants to pay his hard day's work away?-"

"No-no-no, that's great. Y-You don't have to do that for me." Jaune felt his chest tighten and loosen up in the blink of an eye, tandem with the mini-heart attack not getting free stuff would've given him. Not even bothering to acknowledge that stupid title.

"I'll shut up now. Thanks for the money and free bed to sleep on, sir. V-Very appreciated."

He heard the man chuckle behind him as he went inside.

But Jaune ignored him, feeling justified with today, all things considered. He killed the Grimm, avenged the innocent, got the loot, got a nice bed to sleep on for the next three days, and even another story he'll tell himself whenever he's lonely. Which is always.

Basically, life was good. Jaune's existence had purpose here, helping those who could really use the help, but…

From his seat by the usual big ol' fireplace inside tavern walls-which yes, is in literally every tavern Jaune's been to in Vale, and he's been to a lot-he dug through his side pouch. Softly, as not to chafe the material stuffed inside.

When done, he brought out a little forest-green envelope and turned it over, to it's silver cog right in the center of it. Besides the weird color scheme itself, jaune found this detail the most interesting, without including the amazing stuff he knows lies inside it's dark cover.

Jaune, beholding no doubts in his mind; could say right now, in this place by the familiarly cracking fireside, that he's got an invitation to Beacon Academy sitting nice and cozy atop his gauntlet's chainy palm.

He knew the colors. Heard the stories too, so that clued him in already. But what sealed the deal-dumbly enough, but not nonsensically-was the little stamp on the side of it. It's sender a 'Glynda Goodwitch' from the 'Beacon Academies for Gifted and Talented Huntsmen and Huntressess.'

Or, just Beacon Academy for short.

Knowing this, he let a small smile come to his face, an expression that honestly bellied the excitement coursing through his veins. This academy-this opportunity, even, of becoming an official huntsman and not some dingy freelance bounty hunter-was all that he wanted ever since he could walk and talk.

With this, he could be the man he always wanted to be. Though stubble-early as it was-crawled at his jawline and lean muscles constricted under his heavy armor, they weren't a goal in themselves.

If all he wanted was strength in body, he oughta stay in a place like Barneburg for good and marry young. Raise a brady bunch of blonde brats, while he collected kingsmen-coins on the down low—

But, he wanted that after actually getting himself the official huntsman credentials. It gave him both extra social security benefits from the councilman's state, and some much deserved respect from the locals who'd know him.

And, being him, Jaune really wanted that. He wanted to make something awesome of himself, so he didn't need to worry about anything besides what'll strengthen him. He'll finally have some friends and teammates too, which couldn't hurt.

So Jaune's looking forward to life outside the daily grind. And sure, it's fun being a part of it, but that's also not to say he'll never return. Moving from Barneburgs to Barneburgs, collecting coins and good food as he goes.

Only...if this pays off…?

Jaune grinned this time around, his invitation to greatness gripped tight across the edges.

I'll finally do it.

He hyped himself up, swallowing a fat load of spittle.

I'll make something of myself. I'll make something of myself and make nothing out of the Grimm-shit standing before me and my success. Then? Everyone will finally think me less a stupid knight who'd probably flaunt my shiny armor to people for the sake of my own pride, and i'll be happy.

A frown made its way to his face.

No, even better. I'll be 'hero' or 'crusader' by then, as what's a man to call somebody who kills the Grimm in the thousands? And some day, in their entirety?

Nothing but that, Jaune thinks, so he kept on gripping his key to success tight.

Otherwise...it feels like it might just fade away, and he can't have that now, can he?

No sir. Absolutely not.

Welp, here's to another story. Quick notes too:

*No, this isn't exactly the other adventure romance story I made. It shares a load of that one's themes, sure, but I figured to try a different perspective on it here. One more grounded to earth, and somewhat sensible in my opinion.

*No harems. Attraction? Maybe sometime somewhere, but harems for me deserve to be exclusively in humor fics.

*The girls put down as characters are gonna be teaming up with Jaune. That is, if I continue this stuff.

*Ozpin getting the envelope to Jaune, despite being on the road, will be explained latter. Or maybe now, because its kinda simple, but whatever.

*Its gonna be pretty light hearted so far. Keyword so far.

*Ratings suspect to change.

So yeah, heres a prologue. I've grown lazy and tired of thinking about this idea-in a pile of other equally shitty ones-so I got around and wrote it out. Is it better than the previous one? Does it sound like a scuffed Shakespearian play with its dialogue? Does somebody and or something in the story do stuff that you don't like?

Do tell, dear readers. You're the ones who read this with me.

Notes done. Sorry if this sounds crabby and all that, it's two in the morning right as i'm typing this and I'm not happy for it. The entire day's been dedicated to writing this fic and not writing another page of the ACTUAL english stuff due sometime after spring break. Also, it's spring break, happy times with that.

Cheers.