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Lampstead was a village in the Kingdom of Vale. It was a quiet town, unassuming. Once, the town needed to fear the Grimm but now no longer thanks to the hard work of its people and support from Vale itself. It was a peaceful place, and to its inhabitants that’s all it needed to be. Remnant was not a world of endless wars. Its greatest foes were all agreed to be the Grimm.
It was as it should have been.
Repanse was born a peasant. She lived a normal life of a peasant, of hardship, with her father and mother in a poor world. The servants of Chaos took it from her… but the Lady guided her. She tamed a frightened warhorse, was given a holy blade from the Grail Chapel… inspired knights who should have been of greater valor than a peasant and saved the land she loved.
The Lady who guided her even allowed her the Grail and immortality. She saw her village rebuilt and prosper… but she was given eternal Errantry battles. She did not complain, she did not waver in her faith, even as the world changed… and Brettonnia could not.
Remnant was a world of evolution. Already when she and Henri had arrived, they had wonders and they only grew. Her daughter grew up in a world that Repanse and Henri could have only dreamt of. Their grandchildren even more so. If only they knew how blessed they really were.
She thought about this as she sat on the porch, Her daughter by her side watching her granddaughters play in the yard. Sometimes she wondered if, at some moment, she'd wake up from this wonderful dream…
Jaune sat in his mother’s lap, next to his grandmother. The only boy so far… Repanse didn’t look old enough to his grandmother, much less the matriarch of the family but she’d have to do for the moment. Jaune’s eyes were big and bright then.
“I think he looks like his father.” her daughter said with a smile, and she was right, but he had the face of his grandfather, at least in structure… but hopefully, without many of the scares. Henri had been a bit older than her when he took the Grail.
The thought troubled her then; the Grail made them more or less immortal, unless injury came unto them and that was even more unlikely now. Their children were mortal though… and they would outlast them. But at this moment it didn’t matter, just a sword hanging over an idyllic life.
“He does.” She agreed to placate her daughter…. She enjoyed this peace. It has been something her life had been lacking in… something the Old World lacked for too long.
She had authority, to a point in Lampstead, to the point she had been elected to a sort of peacekeeping role. Someone had to keep the former nobles and peasants united and integrated, though of course… the third generation since their arrival had come, and many of them had become old, retired… and yet, she’d continue…
The Lady had a purpose for this. She had to endure, as she had before, through the centuries, for the Lady… but looking at what she had here, she had to hope it endured as well.
—
Henri didn’t adjust as well, but well enough to get by. Many of the older townsfolk knew his name, and Repanse was still the leader of many of her fellows here. He tried to learn Remnant’s language, and he got most of the important phrases for day-to-day life. He knew eventually he’d be a fluent speaker; sipping from the Grail allowed him to remain by Repanse’s side for centuries now…
He was blessed by the Lady. A blessing even few of her chosen received, this life. He only wished more could enjoy it.
Markus De Mandelot, or rather “Kruber” as his elf-wife liked to call him, had come to watch Remnant’s version of Middenball. It was a ‘new’ sport, far as he was concerned; the Empire always had creativity, given they were not so bound to the Lady, and Middenball was fun… Of course, many of them were petty, as Markus had told him. Here? Sports could be petty, but no one started wars over it… and didn’t try to murder teams.
That was a start... Bretonnia tore itself apart on its last day, even the Green Knight couldn’t save it…
The Lady had other plans… they had rushed to try and aid their homeland, torn apart by a war against the undead… barely escaping both the Great Necromancer and seeing their homeland in flames-
“Did the game start?”
Jaune came in excited, placing a bowl of popcorn in the middle as he sat between them. “Not yet, you’re just in time for the kick off.”
Jaune was a good grandson. All his grandchildren were good of course but he was an energetic young man, and had a good heart, all he lacked was some bravery. Not courage though; he had enough of that to make him proud.
They watched the game, the score mattered little to any of them. It was more about the time spent like this. He only wished he knew how to talk to Jaune and his grandchildren better….
But he’d be happy with this, just to spend the time with his grandson and good friend.
“Where’s Aunt Kerillian?” Jaune asked.
“Oh, took Lachina out on a hunting trip.” he paused. “They do it once a year to help her keep her heritage.”
Henri nodded, understanding most of it thanks to the half-elf’s name… a Half-Elf. Those were rare, though of course the Lords and Ladies of the woods were not strangers to ‘dalliances’... and the lass was better company then her mother most of the time.
“Like, with Grimm? Or just animals?”
“Little bit of both.” Sir Madelot replied, with a bit of pride. “Between us I think she takes after me a bit more with her track record, but don’t tell Kerllian I said that.”
Jaune paused, looking towards his grandfather. “So… were you guys really knights? Like my great-Great grandfather?”
Henri understood part of the question and… did his best. “We were, once… your Grandmere could tell you all of it.”
It was pretty good, he thought, but Repanse could tell the stories better. Victor could weave sermons about heroism and honor, but Repanse was the better storyteller. She could find a hundred ways to say the fact of “And the undead champion was slain!”
She was always more of a figure of the legend then he… not that he minded.
“She does have plenty of stories… When you get a bit older, I might share some of my own.”
Jaune frowned as the kick-off started. “I’m not sure my dad would let you…”
Henri frowned… Well, he couldn’t blame a man trying to keep his child out of danger, but some always found it… he’d been much the same way. He wished he could tell Jaune about it better but… Well, the Repase had a better way with words.
—-
“And I'm telling you Ulric can kick Sigmar’s butt to the moon and back! My grandpa says so, and my grandpa ain’t a liar!”
“But how does the Lady fit into this?” Jaune asked.
“Do you guys have to have this argument every Pie Week?”
Jaune didn’t have many friends; he was still wondering if Aldewolf and Pomme counted. Alde was a freckled girl with dark hair and light blue eyes, and big, very big. Bigger than Jaune… and had a bit of a gap in her teeth. Pomme was one of the ‘half-lings’, short, with curly hair and those weird feet of theirs meant they were barefoot most of the time. They mostly just played and went to school together but they were an odd sort: a tomboyish sort of brutish girl and a soft round short guy and… well, Jaune.
“YES! Look, some of them give us pie, and that’s cool but it’s not gonna help ya. Ulric, Sigmar, and Jaune’s lady-god are all human ones, right?”
“Auntie Keriliian says that’-”
“I thought Ulric was a wolf.”
“I don’t care! Point is, Ulric is the best, and pie can’t make up for that.”
Pomme scoffed and brushed his hair with his fingers. “There’s more to life than fighting ya know. Like food. I don’t get why you big guys like it so much, that stuff attracts the Grimm!”
“I’ll punch’em too!” Alde replied. “I’ll punch’em all, just watch!”
Pie Week was a big celebration, apparently from the halflings to celebrate their deity. Lampstead embraced it, due to once being a small farming community. It still was, in a lot of ways but it was really just a normal town… or as normal as such things got in Remnant. There was the New Red Moon Inn and Tavern, the old Engineering Club ran by everyone’s favorite Uncle Bardin, and The Franz Lohner’s Museum and Keep, all of which contributed to the festivities of Pie Week, and some minor tourism (but if they were honest, most people just came out for the pie) and apparently, they even celebrate it at Beacon.
Jaune, Aldewolf and Pomme were just together to explore the festivities and enjoy some pie. He wasn’t sure why Alde hung out with him. Pomme at least was outgoing and got along with most people until the concept of food came up. “Oh hey, I know! Let’s play some midden ball!”
“But I just ate.”
Pomme scoffed. “You’d never last a halfling house.”
“He’s not gonna stuff his face with pies and bread or go to a second breakfast or that other one.” Aldewolf sneered. “He’s already big enough!”
“Wait, humans don’t have elevensis?” Pomme looked as if Alde had just told him humans denied the existence of Grimm. “No wonder you’re all so grumpy! Must be hangry.”
“I hate that word.”
Jaune smiled a bit to himself… sometimes they were funny, Alde blushed. “Stop it you!”
They stopped by the Chapel to Sigmar; it was a small Building really, old fashion with a bright gold roof with a weather-vain on top, the rest of it was pale white marble… apparently Old Saltspyre managed to pay it off with help from his old exploits, and many people still came to hear the old man… and nearby was a game of kickball, a couple of people from school. “Hey! You guys wanna play?”
Jaune looked to the Chapel “A-are you sure it’s safe?”
“It’s kickball!” The tallest boy, probably a year older said. “C’mon it’s just till the tourney starts. Chicken?”
Alde looked angry, and Jaune knew there was no other recourse. They joined in the game, Pomme already sweating nervously as he was only the second halfling there. And the game… went well for a bit… until Alde was up to kick. Alde kicked the ball with all her might, and for a brief moment, everything was quiet as she ran to the first ‘base’, but Jaune saw the ball going right for one of the windows in the back. Everyone heard the crack and then the thud and shout of anger.
Alde froze and everyone left… except for Jaune. “Jaune! Run you idiot!”
Jaune almost did but Old Man Saltspyre was already out as Alde bolted. And he was left alone infront of him.
“How many times must I tell you children not to doddle on holy-” He paused, looking at Jaune, his one good eye in his elderly face glaring at him. “... Aren’t you Sir Henri’s grandson?”
“Y-Yes sir. I-I’m sorry sir. I-I’ll make it up to you.”
Saltzpyre paused for a moment. “... I’ll have a word with them.” He sighed in irritation. “As the only one to take responsibility… you will help me clean this mess up.”
Jaune hung his head. It was just his luck. “Yes sir.”
—-
*A few years later*
Jaune used to be afraid of Mister Saltzpyre, to be honest it was hard not to; everyone thought he was the old grumpy man who’d confiscate your toys if they ended up on church property for disrespecting Sigmar. The Older generation and some of his friends were nervous about that, though the reason varied… Sigmar was hard to define it seemed.
Grandma told him the story was complicated. Like when Great Aunty Kerrilian said stuff like her god being the Lady, and in Lampstead that was just a sort of fact of life that the ‘old country’ was a little weird. All the kids questioned it but they would just shrug and figure something out, leading to the rumor mill that the adults tried to clarify… in their own way.
But once his ‘sentence’ was over he kept helping, that’s when it all clicked for him. He wasn’t so scary when you were helping him to clean up around the place, and he was actually quite nice… well, around his cats, Miss Fueganasus and the others. And around that toy tank Uncle Bardin got him but he wasn’t supposed to mention that.
In the years Jaune had actually come to… well, understand him. Uncle Kruber knew him well, and while Repanse was understandably a bit confused on the topic she eventually came around to the idea. Not to mention… they were Hunters, Maybe retired, they never entirely said anything too detailed and grandma’s stories were always a bit… out there but still. They’d have to understand. Or… he hoped.
Saltspyre looked at him, his wrinkled face in perpetual frown as always. “... you wish for me to help you go to a Huntsmen School?”
“Beacon.” Jaune clarified. “I-I’ve got a good plan.”
“A very cunning one, I'm sure.” Saltzpyre ‘agreed’ before looking him square in the eye. “May I ask why?”
“B-because you’re the only one who knows about… stuff like that.” Jaune’s face probably gave him everything he needed to know. “P-please, I-i’m just…”
Saltzpyre raised a hand. “I’ve known you for most of your life, Mister Arc. I know what you’re capable of… But that’s not the ‘why’ I was asking. Why do you wish to be a huntsman?”
“... My grandparents, on both sides, were heroes, right? They fought monsters, risked their lives and helped the world.” Jaune replied. “I-I feel like… like it shouldn’t end with them.”
“There are many ways to serve the community, Sir Arc, heroism comes in many forms… From Sigmar, to Giles De Bretton, to the King of the Vale. And the price of this heroism is steep.”
“I know! I know I know I-i just… Someone has to do it right?”
Saltzpyre thought about his answer. “Very Well, Jaune Arc. I will assist you.”
“F-fine I’- huh?”
“I knew a man like you once… He wanted more than anything to do the right thing.” He stood up from his desk. “So… I will help you as best I can, Mister Arc… Remnant is confusing at times to me but at its heart, there is still the courage that inspired those like Sigmar.” He snorted a bit with the next line. “Perhaps this is a sign you will go on to do great deeds, or perhaps I'm just a foolish old man… but I will assist you, because that courage is the future.”
He smiled… a ghoulish thing to anyone who didn’t know him well. “Have a little faith, Sir Arc.”
Jaune wouldn’t describe himself feeling very devoted at the moment but he nodded. Right… faith…
—-
Jaune Arc was about to do something very stupid. He snuck downstairs, making sure everyone was asleep…
Except for her. He had forgotten about his grandmother, for a lot of reasons really. She usually kept herself to a tight schedule and now she was staring at him with an odd look he wasn’t sure about. “Where are you going, Jaune?”
“Oh uh, y-you know, just… Uh…”
He looked at the sword above the mantle. “... Your father has a point you understand. You are his only son… he loves you dearly.”
“... I know.” Jaune said a bit softly then he thought was right before looking at Crocea Mors… a weapon used by a hero, something that he was.. Just going to take and hope and pray for the best.
This was stupid. She was here to stop him wasn’t she? Then what was stopping her? He took the weapon gently.
“It will be the hardest thing you will do in your life, Jaune.” She said, and she meant it. Jaune looked at her and her eyes were distant. “Huntsmen work means days without rest or shelter. It means cold, pain, and loss… It is not something you should take lightly.”
“I know I just… I have to prove it. I just want to help people…”
“And if they don’t want your help?”
Jaune sighed. “I’m used to it… It’s better to be out there, you know? If I can do something then I have to… does that make sense?”
“That much is true…” She took a breath. “So, now there is only one thing left to do; Vows.”
“What?”
“A vow is a promise, Jaune.” She said softly. “To fulfill or fail trying. If you’re serious about this, then prove it to me.”
Jaune paused for a moment, looking down at a blade his great-great grandfather used in the early parts of the war. “Alright.”
“Will you allow any other obstacles to stop you in your journey?” She asked. “Will you refuse to help some against the grimm?”
“No… I-i mean that’s kinda the point, right?”
Repanse smiled. “Oh yes, but there’s a difference between what you’re supposed to do, and what you promised to do… both are the same thing, but a Vow is Binding. Once taken, it’s a promise to fulfill or die trying.”
“Dying seems bad, uh…” Jaune commented, and for a moment, she remembered her own fear, coming across what the forces of Chaos had done to her home. A moment of fear before a promise to herself to fight despite it… and she wondered if Jaune’s look of determination was the same one that was once on her own face.
“Alright, I promise.”
She embraced her grandson. “Good, you would have made for a wonderful knight, Jaune.”
He… wouldn’t have been happy to be one, a part of her knew. Bretonnia, fair, beautiful Brettonnia… was not Lampstead, it wasn’t Vale…
It wasn’t a place with its flaws, but she hoped its values could remain. The values of Remnant were not completely incompatible with Honor, chivalry, or the virtues of knighthood, indeed it had its own versions but.
“Good Luck.”
—-
“He WHAT?!”
“He left.” Repanse said simply. “He’s a man you know, he’s able to make his own choices.”
Mr. Arc was an unremarkable man in most respects; descended from a war hero, a face that was kissed by the sun, and being generally clean shaven… which of course made it easier to see the shock on his face. “I-I know that, but you just let him leave? He’ll get killed!”
“Or he’ll get cold feet.” Jaune’s mother replied gently. “Let’s not assume the worst.”
“Indeed.” Repanse replied. “I have a feeling Jaune will be fine. Both of our families have a history of heroism and perseverance.”
Mr. Arc’s face frowned, looking over the now empty mount where Crocea Mors once sat. “You call it heroism and… maybe it is. My father told me enough about my grandfather. About that… look in his eyes. The things he saw in the war was something he wished to never see again…”
Henri and Repanse exchanged a glance as Mr. Arc continued. “... I don’t want Jaune to end up like that. I’ve tried to stop it but… m-maybe it’s just in the blood.”
Repanse’s daughter smiled. “W-Well… When he’s ready, he’ll be ready to talk to us about it, right? The Lady is watching over him.”
Repanse smiled herself. “Jaune is a good man… I understand the burden and… perhaps I played a part in nurturing it, but he is the one who chose to take up your grandfather’s blade. He will do the name proud.”
“I-it’s not just the name it’s… it’s him.” He sighed. “Well… maybe he’ll turn back… until then I… I suppose we’ll have to wait and see… godsdammit…”
—-
*Some time later.*
Markus Kruber never thought he’d have lived a quiet life. Ubersreik, Helmgart… his life as a mercenary, that all made sense. Of course, if a soothsayer or prophetess had told him anything about his life he’d just have laughed in their face. Another world, Kerillian, and even a daughter… What a way to end up. Not to mention he still looked like he did thanks to the Grail and the Lady…
He had the house to himself: Kerillian chose to live in a tent on the roof (always drawing attention from some of the locals) but he had the bed, a Holo-screen and a room to himself. Usually he preferred to watch something on the screen before going to bed, which he usually went to early. It was a better schedule now that Ciara was a woman grown and out in Mistral… though he wished she wrote more back to them.
Still, this night should have been like any other; he was relaxing in his bed when he felt the tremors in the bristles of his mustache. That caught him off guard for a moment but he tried to brush it off.
“Kruber!” Kerillian called out from the window. He raised an eyebrow at the speed of her; even with his aura awakened She was always faster… elves he guessed. As he opened the balcony window. “Did you feel that?”
“Aye, I did…” He said, the worry in her black eyes getting to him as well. “You alright?”
Kerillian scoffed. “Do I look hurt, Kruber? I’m fine, the same cannot be said about the Weave… something has given it a wound.”
She entered the house, the house where she and Kruber raised a child, and moved quickly to the ground floor, Kruber following, putting on his own clothes before following. “What is it?”
“For once I don’t know.” Kerillian replied, irritation in her voice was mingling with worry and doubt he hadn’t heard since Helmgart. “We need to move.”
A Knock on the door interrupted her, she just gestured for Kruber to get it as she went to get her weapons. Kruber opened it to see Saltzpyre…
Kruber never knew how to look at Saltzpyre as he aged, not out of pity but out of sympathy. He was dressed in his old armor, still strong despite his age… it was his will that kept him alive but-
“Valient Kruber… You and the elf felt it as well, didn’t you?”
He nodded. “How did you even put that on so quickly?”
“One must always be prepared.” Victor replied, noticing as Kerillian appeared and handed Kruber his ‘new’ blade; mechashifting was an odd thing, a quirk of the world, but he had to admit he liked it… Still, those pesky Grail vows meant it wouldn’t be a gun… “Hmph, you should follow the example of the elf.”
“One-Eye, I thought I told you I'm the only one allowed to criticize him anymore.” She sighed. “I almost hoped the day would never come.”
“As do I… but that’s why I was ready.” Saltzpyre said. “The Cathayan Dragons should be waiting for us at Beacon. We have a journey ahead of us…”
Even his voice seemed to lower a bit… as if even a Witch Hunter of Saltzpyre’s caliber had hoped the Old World’s problem would have remained there.