RWBY: A Lord's Tale

Chapter Seventeen: Getting Situated

Quin now sat on a bench just outside the elevator, hands wildly gesturing at the small plush in his lap like they were in the middle of a very serious

meeting.

Which, technically, they were.

Sort of.

"No, Mordred, I'm not committing mass treason" He leaned in, tone accusatory. "...I'm already up to here with Salem, no need to add Ozpin and his little theater club to the mix as well."

Mordred stared up at him, her head shifted down to the side... a sigh, I think.

( I don't even understand her. )

Quin exhaled hard, running a hand through his hair. "No, you're not bribing me this time... last time you did, you just gave me my own stuff."

He paused to glance over at the semi-circle of his soldiers.

One of them waved.

Quin waved back instinctively, then blinked. "...Huh," he muttered under his breath, turning back to Mordred. "...Why can't you be more like them?"

The plush didn't respond, at least not audibly, but something about the way her head tilted further made it clear she was definitely judging him.

"I am leading them," he hissed defensively. "Just... on a moral basis, emotionally, spiritually, even...I'm very inspiring."

Says the guy whose been beating them back with a stick.

She flopped backwards in his lap, tired.

Quin rolled his eyes and was halfway through launching into a lecture about his effectiveness when the elevator gave a ding behind him.

He turned just in time to see the doors slide open and Qrow stride out, looking waaaaaay too sober.

He squinted at him for a moment. "...You talkin' to your Tactical Consultant again?"

Quin stood quickly, brushing at his sleeves. "Strategizing, actually, but sure, let's reduce it to that."

Qrow just nodded, not having the energy to deal with this yet. "Hope you don't mind a little detour."

Quin blinked. "Detour?"

"I need a drink." He paused, thinking for a moment. "Well, we'll just get you juice or something."

"Would they have chocolate milk?"

Qrow walked past, patting him on the shoulder. "Maybe, now c'mon, Wonderboy... We're gonna go to the city, Beacon still lacks a bar despite all my suggestions to get one."

He glanced back briefly.

"And don't worry about your toy soldiers... Glynda will get 'em situated."

Quin gave a short hum, watching Qrow's back as the man strode off like this whole thing was normal.

Honestly, he didn't mind the detour. It's not like he had pressing business. It's not like anyone actually told him where to go, what to do, or how to house, feed, or hydrate his minions he'd somehow stumbled into command of.

Not that he could afford to anyway.

He looked over his shoulder at the semi-circle again. The lead soldier was poking another's helmet with the end of his stick, as if trying to figure out how detachable the head was.

( Yeah. Glynda can figure that out… )

He stood up with a sigh, scooping Mordred into the crook of his arm. "You hear that?" he whispered. "Chocolate milk. This day might not be a total loss."

Even without a reply, Quin jogged after Qrow, already running mental damage control on how many terrible choices he could afford to make.

One step at a time.

The airship ride down was smooth, which Quin took in greedily... too few things have gone quietly over the past week, so this was much welcome.

Vake stretched out, tall buildings crowded with little ones, curved lines of traffic, haze rising from vents and coffee shops alike. No shimmering utopia, but surprisingly… normal. It looked like someone had copied and pasted the more comfortable parts of a major Earth city and then given up halfway through zoning laws.

Still, it was nice to be on the ground again.

They disembarked at one of the lower platforms, Qrow taking a confident turn down a side street without so much as checking signs.

Quin jogged to catch up, glancing around.

"So, this place we're going... it's not sketchy, is it?"

"Of course it's sketchy," Qrow said cheerfully. "But the drinks are cheap, and nobody bothers me... Two of my favorite things."

He turned another corner, and there it was: a squat, two-story building squished between a restaurant and an alleyway filled to the brim with garbage. The sign above the door read Crow-Bar. The logo? Two crossed crowbars, drawn like someone thought this was clever.

It… kind of was.

Qrow slid through the door, immediately making his way over to a stool off to the side.

Inside was oddly bright, all wood and brick that was kept up to code. A fan spun lazily overhead, and there was an assortment of photos that looked to be taken in Anima, Atlas, and Menagerie.

Behind the bar stood a man with the greatest mustache he's ever seen, the tufts curled as if polished by the finest wax. He was busy polishing a glass, probably for the effect more than any hygienic need.

Qrow gave him a lazy salute. "Evening, Theo."

The bartender looked up. "It's not-"

"-Leo, right? yeah," Qrow said without hesitation, pointing finger-guns like he'd just done something.

The man blinked. "…Still not it."

"Eh, doesn't matter... Just get me the usual, and something less ruinous for the kid here, he'll take chocolate milk if you've got it."

( Teddy Bear. )

Quin nodded quickly. "Please."

The bartender raised an eyebrow, then gave a slight shrug and turned to fix the orders, mumbling something about "names being optional now, apparently."

Quin slid onto one of the creaky stools beside Qrow. The bar's wood was sticky in that "don't think abour it" kind of way, and the air smelled faintly of cinnamon.

"You... really don't know his name?" Quin whispered.

"Course not," Qrow replied. "He's newer, I've only been going here a couple years... I like to keep it impersonal."

"That's not what impersonal means."

"Sure it is, besides, I'm on a streak... I've never gotten it right, and now it's a principle not to."

The bartender returned, placing a dark drink in front of Qrow and a bottle of something blessedly labeled CocoDome in front of Quin.

Quin picked it up with reverence, eyes gleaming. "Oh my god, it's real."

Qrow lifted his glass. "To... I don't know, just drink."

Quin clinked his chocolate milk against it. "To modern plumbing."

"To what?"

"Nevermind."

The first sip hit hard.

Harder than his fraternal grandparents with the slippers.

Quin made a groan that teetered on the edge of erotic and leaned back against the bar, CocoDome still half-raised in a toast to the gods of pre-packaged dairy.

Qrow just watched him with a flat expression. "You good there?"

"No... but this helps."

He let the bottle clink back onto the counter, careful not to upset the colony of bacteria that he was sure lived atop it. Across the room, a quiet group of dockworkers entered. The music from the jukebox was slow, jazzy, and appropriately non-committal.

Qrow downed half his drink in one go, and muttered, "Just needed this before Ozpin starts throwing you to the wolves."

Quin blinked. "That's a metaphor, right?"

Qrow tilted his glass side to side. "Sort of."

"Why does everyone here speak in dramatic riddles."

"Dunno, might be the weather."

The bartender, Deo or whatever, passed by again, sliding a dish towel over his shoulder and side-eyeing the two of them. He didn't speak, just gave a nod and moved on.

Quin glanced after him. "...I feel like I'm gonna end up banned from here and I haven't even done anything yet."

"That's the spirit," Qrow said, raising his glass.

Quin raised his bottle back, less of a toast and more of a ritual offering. "If I do end up on her bad side, do you think I could bribe Mordred with more of this?"

"She's not real."

"She is extremely real… and she has expensive taste."

"Suree," Qrow chuckled, already halfway through his drink. "But that aside, here's some advice... don't make any enemies while you're here."

Quin frowned. "That's very... vague advice."

"That's because you're the kind of guy who'd make enemies by accident."

Quin opened his mouth to protest, paused, then closed it again. He quietly sipped his chocolate milk.

A moment passed in silence as he entirely missed the milk covering his lip like a mustache.

Finally, Qrow set his glass down. "Alright, Wonderboy, you've had your fun. Let's go get you introduced to the other side of this circus."

Quin slumped forward dramatically. "I just got comfortable."

"Too bad, drink up, and leave a tip."

"But you didn't-"

"I always leave a tip. You're the newbie."

The bartender appeared once again, just in time to witness Quin fumbling in his pockets for anything that he could pass off as Lien, and placed a candy in front of him before he even could.

"What's this for?"

"For getting my name wrong less than him."

"…You do know I haven't said your name at all, right?"

"Exactly."

Qrow was already at the door. "Let's go, Wonderboy."

Quin took the candy solemnly and gave the bartender a respectful nod.

"Thanks Jonathan."

ゴゴゴゴ

"Close enou- aaaaaand he's gone."

Quin jogged up to Qrow, the candy still in his mouth and the faint taste of suspicious mint lingering behind the chocolate milk. He slowed to a trot beside the older man, arms folded behind his head.

"So, where to now?" he asked, curious.

Qrow gave a sidelong glance. "Well, Oz-" he jiggled his scroll, "-has set you up into a temporary residence."

Quin raised a brow. "And?"

"And you're free to do whatever until Ozzie gets his master plan stitched together... Could be an hour, could be a week."

"So like a vacation."

Qrow snorted. "If your idea of vacation involves looking over your shoulder and not knowing who wants you dead, sure."

Quin shrugged. "Better than more Grimm."

"Don't jinx it."

He followed Qrow through winding streets, where neon signs blinked halfheartedly and the buildings leaned on each other like old men listening to The Five Stars. The city had seen better decades.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a narrow building stuffed between a crumbling old bookstore and a row of noisy restaurants spewing out the scent of frying oil and something vaguely fish-adjacent.

Qrow jabbed a thumb toward it. "Here, your own little abode, perfect size for you and that advisor of yours."

Quin squinted up at it. The paint was mostly intact, the windows weren't boarded, and no visible rats. Huh.

"It doesn't look half bad from the outside," he muttered.

"Don't get comfortable, or do, I really don't care."

"Wait, aren't you coming up?"

"Noppee, I've got an appointment with a couple brats."

And just like that, Qrow vanished around the corner, coat flapping, leaving Quin alone with a keycode, a metal door.

"Right, cool, great…"

Quin stared at the door for a second longer, as if expecting it to burst opem, then finally sighed and entered the code.

Bzzzzt. Clunk.

The door hissed open, and he stepped into the unit.

Dim light flickered on overhead, bare bulb, slightly crooked. The air smelled faintly of old laminate flooring, plastic wrap, and maybe someone's chinese leftovers. But overall?

It wasn't terrible.

A cramped kitchenette peeked out on the right, a ratty couch was jammed against the far wall like someone had tried to exile it from the rest of the room, and there was a single closed door that probably led to a bedroom or a suspicious portal. Who could say.

"…Congratulations, me, you've made it to the big leagues." He toed the door shut behind him and leaned against it, digging into his coat.

( Just don't try to become a legend, there's no living legends )

With a swipe across his scroll, the familiar faint-blue interface bloomed to life in front of his vision. Neon hexes ticked past as he tapped [Units] and flicked through the list.

"Congratulations! You've made it to civilization… your survival rate has slightly increased, unlike your face."

Oh shush.

---

[Units]

1x ★ Stone Imps [Forked Hatchet] (Elden Ring) (+1 Authority)

5x ★ Servitor Skulls [4x Sensor, 1x Medicae] (Warhammer 40k) (+1 Authority)

4x ★ Blue Slimes (Stardew) (+1 Charm)

9x ★★ Pike Soldiers (Bad North) (Energetic)

…

[Resummon]

[ Choose who to Resummon ]

• Stone Imp

• Servo-skulls

• Slimes

• Vorpal Chicken

• Pike Soldiers

…

[Resummoning: Stone Imp]

Deploying…

---

With a faint whoop of displaced air and a glitch-like flicker, the Stone Imp materialized in front of him, hatchet slung over one shoulder, the other arm gripping a scrappy little drawstring backpack absolutely stuffed with sticks, twigs, and what Quin hoped was just dried mud.

The little bastard blinked at him.

Then grunted and dropped the bag with a heavy thunk.

Quin raised a brow. "Went hiking while I was gone, huh?"

The Imp didn't answer, of course. It just reached into the bag, pulled out what looked like a surprisingly intact coat rack branch, and started whittling with practiced little chops.

Quin flopped onto the couch, one arm slung over the back as the Imp set up its very own makeshift workstation on the floor like this was all part of the plan.

He stared at it for a moment, then chuckled under his breath. "I don't know whether to be impressed or concerned."

Mordred, still plush and silent in his coat, didn't answer.

Outside, the distant sound of restaurant grease sizzled on.

A couple minutes passed in silence, broken only by the tap-tap-tap of the Stone Imp whittling away with its forked hatchet. Quin sat motionless on the couch, one leg bouncing, fingers drumming lightly against his knee.

Eventually, he sighed and pushed himself up with a grunt.

"Alright, let's see if this place has plumbing."

He made his way across the small space, past the kitchenette, and opened the single door to what turned out to be a narrow, tiled bathroom. The overhead light flickered once before staying on, a minor miracle, all things considered.

The sink was clean enough. A little chipped around the edges, but the water ran clear when he turned it on, and it even got warm after a few seconds. He scrubbed his hands, flexing his fingers under the stream, watching bits of grit swirl into the drain.

Then he looked up.

The mirror above the sink was slightly warped, cheap glass with just enough grime to make everything feel two inches to the left, he didn't much that b-

Wait...

Slitted pupils faintly glowed gold, the iris edged in an unnatural copper hue, like sunlight reflected off a coin left in saltwater.

"Right," He leaned forward slightly, peering. "That."

The Witcher Mutation. For something so painful, it was quite easy to forget amongst all the other important matters he's been forced to handle thus far.

He wiped his hands on the towel hanging nearby, turned off the tap, and gave himself one last glance in the mirror.

Then he turned away, muttering, "Does that make me a faunus? I wonder why no one has mentioned them yet-"

Guess it would be a little racist to, or just a sensitive topic.

Back in the main room, the Imp had successfully constructed a... statue of Marika?

He didn't ask.

Instead, he collapsed back onto the couch, rubbing a hand down his face, then waved the system open with a thought.

---

[Stats]

Strength: 26

Speed: 32

Endurance: 41

Charm: 11 (+1)

Authority: 9 (+2)

Aura: N/A

Note: Average human stats are 10. Aura not yet awakened.

---

"Still no Aura," he muttered, squinting at the glowing interface. "But at least I've bulked up a bit, I might be comparable to my soldiers now"

( Good, a lord must set an example. )

He stared at the Endurance number for a second longer, nodding once. "Mhm… I guess it's because of the regeneration?"

Charm remained depressingly average, was this what Jaune felt like? He didn't feel particularly uncharming, but the numbers didn't lie.

He flicked the stats away and opened the next tab.

---

[ Gacha ]

[ Rolls Remaining: 0 ]

[ Guaranteed Unit Roll: 1 ]

Ready to test your luck? Roll now!

Vélet is not responsible for any addictions.

---

"Oh boy," Quin mumbled, eyeing the pulsing button.

He hovered his hand above the interface.

Then tapped it.

---

[ Rolling... ]

[ Rolling... ]

[ Rolling... ]

[ Congratulations ! ]

★★★ Revenant (Nightreign)

Doll of the daughter of an aristocratic family that faced ruin. Sworn to destroy the darkness. Torches are advised.

---

A glow pulsed once from the floorboards, twice, then erupted into a quiet burst of pale blue light, like moonlight cutting through the night.

A chill passed through the air as the silhouette took shape.

She stepped forward onto the floor of the apartment with an almost soundless grace, her bare porcelain feet making no noise against the laminate. Fine cracks webbed her skin, barely visible along the arches of her feet and curling up one cheek. Her eyes were brilliant blue, deep and luminous as distant starlight, framed by lashes pale as snow.

Braided white hair draped down her shoulders, wrapped in a ceremonial veil that shimmered faintly, not quite belong to this world and a crown of blue flowers rested gently upon her head, bellflowers, forget-me-nots, gentians, all just slightly wilted, as though plucked from a land of eternal night.

She wore a flowing gown, ghostly white with faint embroidery at the hems that resembled candle flames and burning rings. A blue cape, clasped with a ring-shaped brooch, fluttered behind her even in the still air. Around her neck and waist hung several amulets, tiny icons of rings in different styles and metals. Some were cracked, others tarnished.

"Whoaa" Quin took a half-step back, blinking. "You're... real detailed."

The maiden tilted her head ever so slightly, hands folded in front of her like she was about to offer condolences at a funeral.

Her voice was quiet, yet pretty damn well snooty.

"You're... odd."

Quin squinted. "Thanks?"

She did not clarify.

Behind him, the Stone Imp gave an approving nod and began carving a smaller version of her out of what looks to be a small log.

Quin looked between the two of them. "Well... guess this is better than the pikemen"

Revenant move away from the little imp, being a little on guard, makes sense when you remember she's probably had to fight dozens of these.

Quin sighed, swiped the interface open again, and muttered, "Let's check her details before she starts making a fuss about it..."

---

[Unit: Revenant (Nightreign)]

Rarity: ★★★

Class: Support/Striker

Status: Her disappointment is immeasurable, and day ruined.

Skills:

- Necromancy: Raise enemy ghosts to fight as allies. Ghosts are summoned to fight, but are fleeting and dissipate after some time

- Summon Undead: Can call upon three different souls to aid her in battle.

- Forced March: Uses one own soul to gift allies enhanced regeneration, improves Undead by 25%.

- Mourning Veil (Passive): Cannot be targeted first when other spirits are present.

Note: Harmful emotions may cling to her presence. Keep away from sensitive electronics, children under five, and burial dogs.

[ ★★★ Stars ]

Three stars and above are primarily either one of two things... named or more powerful units comparable to named units. Examples include the Nightfarers, Ciri, Geralt, Silverhand, Weaker Dragons, and notable leaders of factions.

---

Quin glanced between her and the Stone Imp again. It had now finished the tiny sculpture, holding it up proudly

It was recognizable.

If you squinted.

And tilted your head.

Revenant did neither, and merely gave the bastard a crass look.

"Right, come on," Quin said, stepping toward the door. "We're gonna go somewhere to test both our abilities."

Revenant didn't move.

He stilled, looking over his shoulder. "Please?"

She gave a short, almost imperceptible sigh before stepping forward with the tiniest huff, her arms folding in front of her like she was being deeply inconvenienced.

"If I must," she murmured. "Just... don't waste our time."

"Wasn't planning on it," Quin said, though he was already sure that was a lie.

The Imp scampered after them, only to have the door closed on him.

Guess he'll be getting some more sculpting done.

The two moved through the city, it was late enough in the day that the streets had started to quiet down.

Thankfully, there weren't many people around. He didn't want to explain why she wasn't wearing any shoes.

Quin checked down the street, before spotting it on the very far end: a warehouse, one that looks to be out of commission.

He thinks so, at least.

The two soon made it to the door, the corrugated steel walls would've looked majestic had it not been covered in dust and what he could only assume was mud.

What he hoped was mud.

He gave the door a rattle, locked of course.

Then he stepped back, looked both ways, and gave the door a sharp kick. The lock clicked and gave way with the pitiful resistance of an already forgotten structure.

"Just," he said aloud, to no one in particular. "Gonna borrow this real quick."

He pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Inside, the warehouse was not quite the empty, echoing test ground Quin had hoped for.

Instead, it was active.

Dim fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long, sickly yellow beams over the space. The scent of oil and old cigars hung in the air. Shipping crates, many of them labeled with permanent marker, were stacked to the rafters, though the lack of dust told him they hadn't been there long. In one corner, a poker table had been dragged in and set up, cards still fanned out across the felt and a bottle of cheap whiskey sweating onto the concrete.

But none of that was the main attraction.

Because standing dead center, some of them lounging, some already rising from metal stools, was a small crowd of men in identical black suits.

All of them wore blood-red ties.

All of them wore matching red-tinted sunglasses indoors.

And all of them stared at him like he'd just eaten the leftovers they been craving to finish after work.

One of them popped a bubble with his gum.

Another twirled an axe lazily between his fingers.

Quin slowly backed out of the door, his head turning towards the doll. "Well, this place is all booked."

He lasted a whole hour without making any enemies, real useful advice there, Qrow.

Revenant pushed him aside to look inside, her gaze trailing along the line of men as though assessing whether they were worth acknowledging. The slight frown on her porcelain lips suggested no.

Quin exhaled through his nose, pressing down on it with two fingers

"Okayyy... guess they've volunteered for the test."

One of the suited men stepped forward, already cracking his knuckles. "You're a long way from home, sweetheart."

Quin didn't even glance at him.

Instead, he gestured towards the back corner of the warehouse. "That space over there looks good, seems big enough to move around properly."

Another thug, this one with three eyebrow piercings, jabbed a finger toward him. "Hey! We're talkin' to you, jackass!"

Quin turned to Revenant, completely ignoring the guy. "Think they'll be enough of a warm up? I mean, they aren't exactly tough."

"Maybe not, but they'll suffice." Revenant gave a shrug, being somehow entirely dismissive and elegant. "Can't say I'm not disappointed, though."

"You and me both," Quin muttered.

Someone threw a bottle. It shattered nearby. One of the henchmen shouted something about turf, or maybe kicking ass, it didn't matter in all honesty. Quin stepped further into the room, shaking his arms loose.

"Go all out," he ordered, glancing over.

"No," she replied, raising her hands lazily. "They reak of failure, one spirit will suffice."

"You lot deaf or somethin'?!" a third suit bellowed. "I said-!"

"I said go all out," Quin repeated, a little louder, talking clean over the man's voice like he wasn't even present. "I need to know what you're capable of."

Behind him, there was an cacophony of metal on leather as axes 'n' machetes were pulled out of their sheathes

Revenant finally glanced towards them. "That's all?"

"Yupppp," Quin said flatly.

The henchmen started shouting in earnest now, rushing forward with barks of laughter.

He cracked his neck.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

And then he started to move.

Backwards.

4105 Words

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A longer chapter, but I hope it suffices :3

A stone a day keeps the marketable plush away.

And a special thanks for reading this far! Didn't expect this to get as much traction as it did, in all honesty.