33Weiss stormed across the campus in a mood. It was a childish behavior, immature for sure, and definitely beneath her character, but she had a damn good reason for being annoyed at everyone.
How the hell had Yang gotten so good at chess?
She'd warned herself against overconfidence when Yang had seen her playing Blake and insisting that she got to play winner. And while Blake had been, as expected, an interesting opponent, she really wasn't in the same league as Weiss was. Weiss had been tutored in chess since childhood, an insistence of Father's, and, unlike many of his demands, chess was one she rather enjoyed taking to. It taxed her strategic and analytical mind to go head to head with a skilled opponent, and she relished the chance to play. And she was confident that Yang, loud, impatient, Yang, would be more of a polite contest she'd just have to push through and get back to her homework.
How wrong she had been.
She lost the first game, a surprise, possibly that overconfidence she'd warned herself about. But no, she could definitely tell that Yang wasn't playing at random. There were strategies at play, too many gambits that surely were deliberate. She was no amateur. A rematch was needed. And then, after that stinging defeat, another rematch. And then another.
Yang, arrogant, loud, obnoxious Yang had kicked her up and down the length of the board, making puns nonstop and calling the pieces by the wrong goddamn names. And the flirtation… shamelessly alternating between her and Blake, Yang dropped innuendo and implication with every piece she took off the board. It had shredded Weiss's pride and annihilated her patience, and that was why she was stomping across the campus, boiling in fury and- hold on a second.
It was Jaune. Not something Weiss would normally want to see when she was in a mood, but this was different. It was Jaune and a blonde woman who had far too much Arc about her to be anything other than his sister. That would have been intriguing enough, except for the much more interesting fact: they seemed to be arguing. Or, at least, she seemed to be arguing, speaking in rapid Old Valean, her voice forcefully authoritative and with a slightly rural accent that made it hard for Weiss's school-Valean to keep up, and Jaune... seemed to be failing to defend himself.
She stopped herself, thinking if she wanted, say, Nora to see her while she was getting reprimanded by Winter, but she realized, it was already far too late, that she and Jaune had made eye contact, and now his probably-sister had turned and made eye contact, too, and it was clear she was going to have to introduce herself. She waved, awkwardly, wishing she had a teleportation Semblance that could get her out of this surely awkward experience.
"Oh, um, hi Weiss," Jaune responded, likely also wishing for such a Semblance. "This is, um, my sister, Beryl," which confirmed Weiss's estimation, not that she needed it with how blonde and obviously related to Jaune the young lady was. Though, Weiss did have to admit, she lacked Jaune's essential awkward gangliness, and generally just seemed to be a well-put together, though rather provincial, young woman. Which meant that Jaune couldn't blame his Jaune-ish-ness on his genes. "Beryl, this is-"
But she wasn't waiting for Jaune to finish. She turned to Weiss in a forceful way and said, "Actually, you're perfect—you know my brother, so tell me: how is he doing as a Huntsman?"
Weiss froze. She heard Jaune lamely suggest that maybe she wasn't the best person to ask, and she had to agree. How was Jaune as a Huntsman? Wretched. Terrible. Worst in his year, by a long shot. And…
"Jaune continues to make considerable progress as a Huntsman-in-training. He's successfully led an attack against an elder Deathstalker and his largest confirmed Grimm kill was an… Ursa Major, I believe." Beryl's eyes went wide at that, darting incredulously to glance at her brother like she couldn't believe it was possible. Spending so much time in Beacon, surrounded by other aura users, Weiss had nearly forgotten that, for most people, taking down a Grimm larger than a Creep was an extraordinary feat, rather than homework. "His interpersonal combat record is… not great, but he's demonstrated a good tactical mind for leading Team JNPR in group matches."
The look Jaune gave her was a mix of gratitude and amazement. But she wasn't sure why she'd said it. It wasn't untrue, of course, but if she'd been asked to give her frank assessment of Jaune, well, it wouldn't be nearly so kind. But looking at his sister, she had an inkling why. There was something a little too much of her father in that woman, and the way she seemed set on undermining Jaune as a Huntsman.
"Well, be that as it may..." she seemed to be regaining from the surprise of Weiss's positive evaluation, "No matter what your friends might think, Jaune, you have a place you belong. At home. You're needed on the estate, and now that you've had your taste and seen what life is like out here, it's time to-"
"I'm sorry..." Weiss hadn't wanted to interrupt; she'd wanted to get out of there, but she had to ask, "'The estate?' Jaune, you've never mentioned your family had an estate." It was hard to process that Jaune Arc, goofy, doltish, hoodie-beclad Jaune Arc was from one of Vale's landed families. And, as the wheels in her mind turned, she was starting to piece together which family it might be...
Jaune rubbed his neck. "I, um, well… It never seemed that important? When you're all so remarkable and-"
"Never seemed important?" his sister's scandalized voice rose into a fury, "You wear the family sigil! You're carrying the family sword! This land has been in our family for generations, Jaune, and you..."
"I- I'm sorry..." she felt light headed, "Your family estate, it wouldn't… it couldn't be..."
Jaune looked at her, red-faced, "It's not a big-"
"Château d'Arc," Beryl cut him off, "I take it you've heard of us?"
She slumped backwards, feeling the weight of the name come bearing down on her. "Jaune," she said in a haunted voice, "I didn't know you were one of those Arcs!"
He threw up his hands. "What other Arcs are there! Why else do you think I've got the symbol of the Arceaux region on my family's heirloom shield!"
"My father drinks Château d'Arc!" she practically shrieked, "They served the '76 Arceaux at my going away dinner before I left for Beacon!"
But in response to that, both siblings awkwardly looked away. "What," she asked, "what does that mean?"
"Nothing!" Jaune was quick to respond. "It just..."
"Not a great vintage," Beryl supplied.
"The spring was just too cold, rains too uneven, and the grapes were too sweet," he shrugged, "Dad complained about it for most of our childhoods."
Beryl, in a gruff, deep voice, evidently imitating their father, added, "It's '76 all over again!" to her and Jaune's amusement.
But Weiss was fuming. They were the richest family on Remnant, and yet, of course, Father had cut corners at his own daughter's celebration. But that gave her more reason to glare at Jaune. "How do you, of all people, never once mention you're literal nobility from one of Vale's oldest families?"
"Um, technically, noble titles were abolished in my great-grandad's day, but-"
"JAUNE!" she shouted.
But Beryl was now the one cutting in, and seeming apologetic about it. "I'm… sorry, I didn't intend to cause anger here, but you can understand, right, what I'm asking of him? This is our family's history; it's something important."
Weiss, no stranger to issues of the family name, though certainly not expecting that she'd have that in common with Jaune, of all people, was about to respond, but before she could speak, she was cut off by a familiar voice saying, "Jaune?"
Oh no. Weiss recognized that voice, and in the context of what they were discussing, she was likely the last person who should be hearing it.
It was Pyrrha, obviously out looking for her missing partner, and from the look of stunned awe on Beryl's face, she had definitely been recognized. Not surprising, honestly. Even though their friend group rarely noticed Pyrrha, whether because Weiss was, herself, a student with a rather extraordinary reputation, or from the way, after a few months, celebrity became normalcy, but Pyrrha was just... one of the group. Hard to be starstruck when you've heard her complain about her laundry woes, or you've tried to help her unstick a stuck drawer in her dorm. But for someone like Beryl, Pyrrha was Pyrrha Nikos. The Invincible Girl. The Goddess of Victory. A once-in-a-generation talent, with arguably the strongest pre-academy fighting record of anyone since Ozpin was their age. There were furious online debates how she would match up against the late Hazel Rainart for Greatest of All Time. Her decision to go to Beacon had been international news… that her brother had somehow missed, but Weiss was getting the impression that some of Jaune's more… Jaune-ish tendencies weren't family traits. Or, at least, not shared with Beryl.
"I was just," Beryl swallowed, struggling to find words appropriate for meeting such a celebrity, "speaking with my brother, here, on returning to his responsibilities back home. I see he's had… quite an experience at Beacon, but he's not cut out for this life and he belongs on the family-"
"He will do no such thing," Pyrrha suddenly responded with a severity that nearly knocked the wind out of Weiss, and certainly sent Beryl's eyes wide. Seemed to surprise Pyrrha just as much as the rest with how suddenly she'd said it. "I- I mean, it would be his choice, of course, but… but Jaune has a place here! He has demonstrated his ability, and I can personally vouch that he rightfully belongs here."
Weiss could feel an almost electrical tension between the two, whatever starstruck daze was in Beryl's eyes cleared up real quick as she narrowed at Pyrrha's words. But whatever she was thinking, she opted not to act on it. "That… seems to be what I've been hearing," she ventured, diplomatically. She turned to Jaune, "I understand that you have friends here..." she glanced to Weiss and Pyrrha, "And I understand this is a… charged topic. But, please, Jaune… I'm your sister, please think about what I've said." She looked to them both. "It was a pleasure meeting you. But I think it's time I took my leave. Jaune? Could you show me to the Bullhead dock?"
Jaune gave them both an apologetic look, promised he'd catch up with them, and turned to leave with his sister. But as soon as they were out of sight, Pyrrha whirled on Weiss. "What have you done," she hissed, no trace of the usually polite girl to be found in her fury, "I know you don't like Jaune, but you have no right to-"
"I didn't do anything!" she protested, "I told his sister h-he's improved as a Huntsman! And it's true, he has—I'm not trying to get him to leave!"
But Pyrrha, who normally would have apologized immediately for making an accusation, continued to look at her in a muted fury. And then… her face fell, and she couldn't stop wringing her hands, the usual Pyrrha coming back in. "Y-you heard what she had to say, right? Why she wanted Jaune to leave?"
"I- I don't know," she confessed, "When I came into the conversation, they didn't mention anything as to why, and I don't think Jaune would resist it if, I don't know, there was a death in the family? It just sounded like his sister wanted him back on the family vineyards and- well, has he ever talked about that with you?"
Pyrrha froze for a second, racking her brain, trying to think of what might be happening. "I- I don't know that much about Jaune's background," she confessed, "I mean, he talks about his family a lot, but never mentioned much about the family farm."
"The family estate," Weiss corrected, to Pyrrha's confusion. "Your partner, it turns out, is from an old Valean family. One of the oldest—the Arceaux region is named because they used to rule it, before Vale was unified. The Arc family estate makes some of the best Arceaux wines in Sanus, and your partner's apparently been, well, part of that."
Pyrrha's jaw dropped. "He- he never mentioned that," she said quietly, nervously, as though she was realizing how much about her partner she didn't know. "Do you think it's something, I mean-" then she cast her eyes downward, and Weiss realized she'd never seen Pyrra—strong, invincible Pyrrha—ever seem so small in front of her. "Do you think he'll leave?" she asked in a quiet voice.
"I… don't know," Weiss admitted. "I really don't know anything, but..." she knew she had to marshal her words carefully—she'd already seen Pyrrha's anger roused once tonight and had no interest in seeing another, "Jaune's from a really prestigious winery, and maybe there's an opportunity there he can't pass up? And, you know, maybe… maybe his sister does know him better than we do?"
Pyrrha was silent for a moment, the air suddenly feeling quite a bit colder than she was used to in Vale. Quite a bit more like it was in Atlas. "I… thank you, Weiss, but I'm going to wait for my partner to return. I… would like to be alone right now, if you don't mind."
Leaving Pyrrha alone didn't sound like a good idea, not from the way her voice seemed to waver as she said it, but Weiss didn't know what she could say. She just nodded and stepped back, watching as Pyrrha looked to the Bullhead docks, her body language saying everything she couldn't say out loud. Paralyzed by indecision, whether to stay or go or say something or whether she should text Nora or her own team about what she'd heard, or if she should wait for Jaune to tell everyone about this himself, Weiss could only carry out what Pyrrha had requested of her. And so, she left.
She had expected that Jaune would be quick to return. That he'd walk his "sister" to the Bullhead docks, say his goodbyes for the night, and come back. So Pyrrha had stood where she was, feeling time creep both impossibly slow and lightning fast in alternating moments. Checking her scroll for the time, putting in back in her pocket, then immediately retrieving it to check the time again. Feeling impatient, she resolved to go after them, figuring anything was better than just standing around and waiting.
Her mood bounced between blazing fury and trembling anxiety. At one moment, she was the Goddess of Victory, surely cutting a figure of some awe as she told herself she would not permit anyone to disrupt Team JNPR, and that she would protect her partner from family members who sought to use him for their own benefit, without a thought for his happiness. She had experience in dealing with that, after all. But then… she would suddenly get a thought that undermined all that confidence, sending her tumbling into self doubt. Jaune loved his family. He obviously loved his family from the way he talked about them. And maybe they just knew better than she did what was best for Jaune.
But that only reminded her that she'd heard Jaune tell her, firsthand, how badly he wanted to be a Huntsman. How much he wanted to live up to his family's reputation, using his grandfather's sword! The idea that all his dreams, and all the work he'd put into achieving them should be cast aside so he could pick grapes and make wine—wines that would be drunk by people like Weiss, wealthy, entitled sorts who had no appreciation for Jaune… she wouldn't stand for it.
And that was the mood she was in when she heard, "Oh, hey, Pyr!" from a bench she was just about to pass.
She turned, startled, so caught up in her own world that she almost hadn't noticed that she was walking right past the subject of her thoughts… with his sister.
Beryl gave her a wave. "Jaune and I were just talking about how the Malbecs were coming in and must have lost track of time. I hope you weren't waiting on my brother long," no explanation for why she wasn't gone, and Pyrrha rather didn't like the way she was saying her apology.
Jaune seemed almost embarrassed to talk about it. "It's… it's a kind of grape that's sometimes used in Arceaux reds. Beryl's teasing me because I thought they'd grow well in some newly-drained land my family was cultivating, because it'd get the sun more and..." he realized he'd started rambling. Pyrrha loved to hear Jaune ramble, to see him get passionate, but on this topic, and the way his sister seemed to watch him talk, made her feel… it was hard to place. "I just… they just need some more time."
Beryl nodded at that, undeniably taking it as a point in her favor. Pyrrha had decided she did not like Jaune's sister—hopefully the other six weren't like this. It wasn't what she said or did so much as how she seemed to do it. She had a smug mien to her that made it feel like everything she did, even watching her brother speak, was all in service to some inscrutable goal.
Well, one on one combat was where Pyrrha excelled, so might as well bring her strengths to bear.
"Jaune?" she asked, sweetly, "I'm glad I caught you both; I was actually hoping for a chance to talk to your sister, one on one, if you don't mind." She gave them a polite smile so dishonest that her media trainer would have wept to see it, "You know how much I want to learn about my partner's past. I really do," she looked to Beryl, "find your family quite fascinating, especially with the things Jaune hasn't told me yet."
Jaune blushed, furiously, muttering, "She knows about the dress. And the pigtails." Beryl suppressed a snicker, clasping a hand to her mouth as her brother got up. He turned to Pyrrha before he left. "Listen: you respecting me... it was good while it lasted." Pyrrha couldn't help but smile, a real, honest smile, when he said that.
But then he left, and Pyrrha took his spot on the bench. "Alright," now was no time for beating around the bush: she could see in Beryl's eyes that the feeling between the two was mutual. "What's your game here?"
"My game?" she asked, incredulously, "I should be asking you what you're playing at here with my brother. You do know—and I don't want to be the one telling you this—that he has no combat training, right? No academy background, no personal training—dad didn't unlock any of our auras specifically because he didn't think any of us should become Huntsmen."
Pyrrha looked at her cooly. "I know about Jaune's background. He trusted me enough to tell me not long after we first met. I've been personally training him, and I'd rather not see my effort go to waste."
Beryl blinked at that, taken a little off step. "You're training him? You?"
She smiled, a dominant, champion's smile. There was a reason she didn't lose fights, and confidence had a role in that. Defeat the enemy in their own mind first, and the battle becomes much easier. "We have a similar style, though mine favors mobility and his favors defense. And believe me: Jaune's a quick study. He takes to the style like a natural, and he's an exceptional team leader. We're favored to win the Vytal Tournament for a reason."
"No, you're favored to win the Vytal," Beryl corrected. Inwardly, Pyrrha cursed herself for overplaying her hand. Beryl might be underestimating her brother's ability, but she was still his sister, and could likely tell what was implausible to expect. "Jaune's not helping you there. You've trained all your life for combat, Jaune's just got grandad's sword and too many comic books." She tensed at that, but before she could reply, Beryl cut her off, "Here, he's only got a sword and a dream. But you don't know what he has back home."
"Jaune's told me quite a bit about his family," she replied, testily.
"But none of you knew about the family name," Beryl shot back, "Or the estate, or any of the responsibilities he has back there. And you certainly don't know about how much Jaune's personally invested into this."
Pyrrha didn't like what Beryl was building to, here. But she was right, and Pyrrha was growing frustrated with how little she actually knew. And that told her, the longer she evaded, the better Beryl's hand would be. She had to keep to the point. "What do you want?" she asked, teeth slightly gritted for emphasis.
Beryl eyed her warily, but acceded to her request. "I think Jaune is a young man who saw childhood ending and got uncertain about his future," Pyrrha could practically feel the electricity crackling between their gazes, tingling her polarity sense, "He's attracted by the glamor and heroism and, yes, the chance to do good… but he'll be much happier, much better off, and yeah, able to do a lot more good in viticulture than he could do with a sword. You have no idea what the estate means to the family, to the community."
She didn't, but she wasn't going to yield the point."You have no idea what Jaune's achieved here already."
But she only nodded, gravely, to her point. "Tell you what: I'm visiting some locations here in the city as a representative of the family. I could easily put together a wine tasting for you and your friends, and have Jaune run it. Let you see for yourself where my brother's talents and passions really lie." Then the unexpected happened: her features softened, looking less like Pyrrha's opponent and more the sister of someone she deeply cared about. "I want you to know… I'm not doing this to control him. I really do think this is what's best for Jaune, and I really do care for my brother..." but then the spark came back into her eye, "Just because we're not world-famous monster fighters, there are other ways to protect our communities. Might not be glamorous or get us sponsorship deals, but our work is important, too."
Pyrrha knew that diplomacy would serve her best here, but she didn't feel inclined to give her anything more than a cool nod of her head. "Alright. We'll got to a wine tasting. I'll see what you're talking about. But I'm telling you: Jaune has a place here. He belongs here. And if he doesn't want to leave, I'm not going to sit idly by and just watch."
Beryl nodded as well. "I don't think I could expect anything less from the Goddess of Victory," and Pyrrha cringed to hear that name. "But if you see what I've known all my life… I want you to back off. We both want what's best for him, and," and then she gave Pyrrha a teasing smirk, "we both know that he doesn't always realize a good thing when he has it."
Well.
That certainly threw her!
But Pyrrha was quick to regain her balance. She looked to Beryl, eye to eye, and nodded. This was a painful circumstance, realizing that there was so much of her partner that she didn't know, and how easily she could lose him. But now she had an opponent, and an opponent meant she had somewhere to direct herself. She was no longer lost in a panic of uncertainties—she would not lose here, and she knew that for a fact.