Redeemers: Greenest in Flames: Epilogue 1
Narration: *The first thing Jaune becomes aware of is the ceiling. Stone, unfamiliar, with a crack running diagonally from one corner. The second thing is that everything hurts. Not the sharp immediate hurt of a fresh wound, but the deep settled ache of a body that has been pushed well past what it was built for. The third thing is the smell of something herbal and medicinal, and the distant sound of activity outside.*
*He's in the keep's infirmary. Cots line the walls, most of them occupied. Morning light comes through the narrow windows at a low angle. He's been out for a while.*
Jaune: *Tries to sit up and immediately regrets it.* Ugh…
May: *Without looking up from her book.* Don't. Your body will be sore from the healing potions.
Jaune: *Freezes. Turns his head slowly.* ...May?
May: *Turns a page.* You were expecting someone else?
Jaune: *Settles back carefully.* How long have you been there?
May: Long enough. It's my shift.
Jaune: Your shift.
May: *Finally looks up, expression perfectly even.* If the Redeemer dies on a Redemption Quest, it reflects poorly on the prisoners. We've been taking turns. *Goes back to her book.* You're welcome.
Narration: *Jaune stares at the ceiling for a moment. Something about that lands differently than she probably intended it to.*
Jaune: ...What did I miss?
May: *Closes the book on her finger to hold the page.* The cultists withdrew fully around an hour after you went down. All three raiding forces. Town is already starting to clean up. Nighthill has been coordinating relief efforts since dawn. *Pause.* You've been asleep for most of a day.
Jaune: *Quietly.* Ariel. The woman they were holding, did she…
May: She's fine. Shaken, but unharmed. Her brother nearly knocked Escobert over getting to her.
Jaune: *Jaune lets out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.* And Cyanwrath?
May: Breathed lightning into the sky. *Flatly, like she's reporting the weather.* When you lost consciousness, he aimed it straight up instead of at you. Then he left with the rest of them.
Jaune: *Stares at the ceiling.* You’re saying he “styled” on me?
May: *Watching him carefully now.* Does that bother you?
Jaune: Maybe a little…
May: *Goes back to her book without further comment. The kind of silence that isn't uncomfortable.*
Jaune: *After a moment.* What are you reading?
May: *Holds up the cover without looking at him.* Field Guide to Western Heartlands. Third edition.
Jaune: ...For fun?
May: *Turns a page.* Someone has to know what they're doing out there.
Jaune: *Outside the narrow windows, Jaune can hear the faint sounds of Greenest already putting itself back together. Hammers. Voices. Somewhere, a child laughing.* Where is everyone else?
May: Breakfast. An inn in town reopened their kitchen. The Hollering Horse.
Jaune: *Stares at the ceiling for a moment longer.* Great. I'm starving.
May: *Dryly, without looking up.* No surprise. You haven’t eaten since yesterday.
Narration: *He sits up slowly this time, swinging his legs over the side of the cot with the careful deliberateness of someone who hasn’t moved for nearly twenty-four hours. The feelings in his limbs come back with several complaints.*
Jaune: *Hisses through his teeth, pressing a hand to his side.*
May: *Closes her book.* Take it easy.
Jaune: *Already reaching for his boots.* I had a whole day of taking it easy. *Tugs one on, winces.* Besides. Nothing cures bedsores like a good walk.
May: *Stands, arms folded, watching him with nearly no expression.* If you pull something, I'm not carrying you.
Jaune: *Gets to his feet. Sways once. Steadies.* Noted.
Narration: *His armor is gone, cleaned and set aside. Someone left him a simple tunic and trousers. He catches a glimpse of himself in the small mirror above the washbasin across the room. Hair a disaster, a healing bruise running up the left side of his jaw, shadows under his eyes deep enough to look permanent. He looks, in short, like someone who lost a fight with an owlbear.*
Jaune: *Looks at his reflection for a moment.* ...Could be worse.
May: *Already at the door.* Come on then.
Narration: *The keep's gates are propped open in the morning light, guards nodding them through without comment. The smoke has thinned overnight, leaving the air smelling of ash and damp stone, but underneath it something else. Sawdust, fresh timber, the particular smell of sweat as people get back to work.*
Narration: *Greenest is a mess. There's no softening that. Whole storefronts stand gutted, their contents either looted or burned. Scorch marks climb the walls of buildings that are still standing. The fountain in the town square has a crack running through its basin, water dribbling slowly into the cobblestones.*
Narration: *But people are out. That's the thing that strikes Jaune first. Everywhere he looks, someone is doing something. A man nailing boards over a broken window. Two women hauling debris into a cart. A group of children passing buckets of water down a line toward a building whose beams are still smoldering at the edges. A blacksmith banging out dozens of fresh nails for the reconstruction. A merchant carefully arranging what stock he has left onto a half-burnt display table, making it look as presentable as he could.*
Narration: *Nobody stops the two of them, but people notice. A woman pauses her sweeping to nod at them. An old man sitting outside what used to be a bakery raises a hand. Two militia soldiers spot them from across the street and straighten up with something that isn't quite a salute but is a show of respect well earned. Jaune nods back at all of them and says nothing, and somehow that feels like the right response.*
Narration: *The Hollering Horse sits at the corner of the market square, one side of its sign scorched black and its front window boarded over, but the door is open and the smell coming out of it is extraordinary. Bacon. Fresh bread. Something with onions. Jaune's stomach makes its feelings on the matter extremely clear.*
Jaune: *Pushes the door open.*
Narration: *Inside, the inn is half cleaned up and fully operational. Tables have been dragged back into order, the floor swept if not scrubbed, and behind the bar a stout woman is moving with the focused energy of someone who has decided that her kitchen reopening is at the forefront of getting this town back on track. At a large table in the back, half hidden behind a column and an impressive quantity of food, sits the rest of the party.*
Narration: *Neon spots them first.*
Neon: *Jumps up, nearly knocking over her plate.* HE LIVES!
Reese: *Fist pumps.* Called it! Pay up, Neo.
Neo: *Pouts and slides a coin across the table.*
Cinder: *Leaning back in her chair with a cup of something steaming, appraising Jaune with one raised eyebrow.* You look terrible.
Jaune: *Pulls out a chair and drops into it.* Good morning to you too, Cinder.
Adam: *Slides a full plate across the table toward him without being asked. He points at it firmly.* Eat.
Jaune: *Looks at the plate, then at Adam.* ...Thanks, Adam.
Adam: *Nods. Goes back to eating.*
Narration: *For a while, there's nothing but the sound of eating. Jaune works through the plate in front of him with the singular focus of someone who has remembered that food exists and is making up for lost time. Around him, the table slowly comes back to life.*
Neon: *Leaning back expansively, arms spread like she owns the place.* So. While you were busy getting your beauty sleep, the rest of us were out here becoming local legends.
Jaune: *Through a mouthful of bread.* Yeah?
Reese: Oh yeah. Turns out saving a town gets you a lot of free food! *Holds up three fingers.* Three helpings. Three! And the lady behind the bar keeps refilling my beer without me even asking!
Neo: *Conjures a Minor Illusion of words above her.* “And free things. I barely have had to steal anything since yesterday.”
Cinder: *Examining her mug.* The Governor's steward came by earlier to personally thank us. Brought a very decent bottle of wine.
May: *Flatly.* Which you have yet to share.
Cinder: I’m saving it for a special occasion. *She mutters into her mug.* Like tonight, alone with a bubble bath and a naughty novel.
Adam: *Without looking up from his plate.* Two of the militia came to find me this morning. Wanted me to teach them some sword techniques.
Neon: *Pats Adam’s shoulder.* Ended up with a whole fan club watching him swing his sword around.
Adam: Can’t help that I’m impressive.
Cinder: It seems the whole town is quite impressed with us.
Reese: It's so weird! This is, like, the longest I’ve been in a town without getting arrested.
Neo: *Nods in agreement.*
May: *Sips her tea.* Admittedly, it is a rather nice town when it isn’t, you know, being invaded.
Jaune: *Looking around the table, something warm settling in his chest despite himself.* ...Doesn't it feel a lot better? Helping people?
Narration: *The table erupts.*
Neon: BOOOO!
Reese: *Flings a piece of bacon at him.* GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!
Neo: *Throws a breadroll at his head.*
Cinder: *Rolls her eyes.* I knew he was going to say something like that. I knew it in my bones.
Adam: *Flicks some scrambled eggs at him.* Save it for sermon, squire. We’re trying to have breakfast here.
May: *Has not moved. But there is the faintest suggestion of a smile at the corner of her mouth.*
Jaune: *Shielding himself from the barrage, laughing despite himself.* I'm just saying!
Party: *More jeering and laughter, until Governor Nighthill walked in.*
Narration: *The door to the Hollering Horse swings open and Governor Nighthill steps in, arm still in its sling, the bandaging on his face freshly changed. He looks like a man who hasn't slept, but is running entirely on duty and relief. His eyes sweep the room and land on Jaune with something that looks genuinely close to gratitude.*
Nighthill: *Crossing to their table, hand extended.* They told me you were up and about. I had to see it for myself.
Jaune: *Stands to shake his hand, only slightly wincing.* Governor. How's the town?
Nighthill: *Pulls up a chair without being asked, lowering himself into it with the careful movements of man too proud to admit his wounds still hurt.* Battered. But standing. Which is more than I dared hope for around midnight. *He looks around the table.* Thanks in no small part to the people sitting at this table.
Narration: *He reaches into his coat and produces a leather purse, setting it on the table with a solid clunk, followed by two small vials, one a deep red, one a shimmering gold.*
Nighthill: It isn't much, I'm afraid. The cult took a great deal from us last night. But I scraped together what I could. Two hundred and fifty gold pieces. *He nods toward the vials.* A Potion of Greater Healing and a Potion of Heroism, from the keep's stores. They're yours. All of it.
Half the Party: *Already reaching for the gold purse.*
Adam: *Puts one large hand over it before she gets there.*
Half the Party: *A mix of hisses and pouts.*
Nighthill: *Manages a tired smile before his expression sobers.* I mean it. What you did last night; the tunnel, the temple, the gate, that dragon. My garrison couldn't have held without you. Greenest owes you a debt I'm not sure we can fully repay. *He leans forward slightly.* Which brings me to my next question. What are your plans from here? Will you be moving on?
Narration: *The table goes quiet in a comfortable, expectant sort of way. Several party members reach for their drinks or lean back in their chairs. It has the easy feeling of a question with an obvious answer. They saved the town. The job is done. Time to move on, collect the pardon, go home.*
Jaune: *Sets down his fork.* Actually, yes. We'll be moving on to follow the cult back to their camp and rescue the contact we were originally sent here to meet. Eileen mentioned they’re based at Blood Gulch?
Narration: *The comfortable quiet becomes a very different kind of quiet.*
Cinder: Excuse you?
Neon: Wait, yeah. What…?
Neo: *Conjures an illusion of a question mark above her head.*
Nighthill: *Reads the room with the instincts of a man who has been in politics for thirty years.* I see. Well. I am familiar with the name. Blood Gulch is south of Greenest towards the Amn Mountains at the border. *He pushes back his chair and gets to his feet with some effort.* It sounds as though you may have some things to discuss amongst yourselves. *Nods respectfully to the table.* I'll leave you to it. And whatever you decide, thank you. All of you. Greenest won't forget it. *He heads for the door with the dignified haste of a man removing himself from someone else's domestic situation.*
Jaune: *Looks around the table.* …Did I say something wrong?
Adam: *He growls out his words.* What do you mean WE’RE going after them?
Neon: Yeah, are we not, like, about to be pardoned?
Jaune: *Looks surprised and confused.* What? No. We still haven’t met with Qrow Branwen yet.
Cinder: The terms of the quest were to “Accomplish good deeds to absolve our crimes.” We saved the town. That’s about as good a deed as they come.
Jaune: But…
Reese: But what? Are you saying the other night didn’t count?!
Jaune: It did! But that doesn’t mean you’re free to go after a single good deed.
Neo: *Huffs and conjures a message above her head.* “‘That night was not just a ‘Single Good deed.’”
May: *Who had been quiet up to this point asks a pointed question.* How many deeds decide when we go free then?
Jaune: *Is quiet for a moment while fiddling with his fork.* Its uh… subjective.
Reese: Then “Subjectively” I say that this is bullshit!
Neon: I don’t know about these other psychos, but I’m just here for trumped up assault charges! Saving lives should at least let ME go home!
Jaune: It doesn’t work like that! Look, I get it. What we did was no picnic. In fact, I think we all accomplished something incredible. But if you’re going into this Redemption process thinking about it all in “points” then you’re just undermining what this is really about.
Cinder: What this is really about is that we risked our lives, and you're about to make us do it again. You heard the prisoner, the Cultists conducted three separate raids, which means that there will be THREE times as many enemies at their camp.
Neo: *Conjures an illusion of a flock of dragons above their heads.*
Adam: *Nods* Right. And who knows how many Dragons.
May: We have to face the facts here. *She stands up from her chair.* We may have survived the raid, but that’s all we did. Survive. We had an entire fortress behind us, and now you’re telling us to go out into the wilderness, just the seven of us, and go hunt down an enemy force three times as large and an unknown number of dragons just to rescue a man that we don’t even know is alive.
Narration: *The entire table was looking at Jaune now, demanding answers that he wasn't sure he had.*
Jaune: *He looked back at them. All of them. He could see it in their faces. The anger, the exhaustion, and underneath both of those, the fear. And the worst part was that they weren't wrong. What they had accomplished in a single night would have satisfied most Redeemers. On paper, the argument was solid. Any reasonable squire would have signed the pardons over breakfast and called it a job well done.*
*But Jaune knew, the way he knew most things that mattered, not through logic but through a deep moral compass, that leaving Qrow Branwen in chains while they walked free wasn't right. The real job wasn't finished.*
*The problem was that he couldn't do it alone. And that was the part that shamed him a little. He needed them far more than they needed him. Six criminals who had just saved a town and earned every right to walk away, and he was about to ask them to jump out of the frying pan and straight into the fire.*
*How could he possibly convince them to follow him into certain danger?*
How can Jaune convince the Party to continue their Redemption Quest?
(Persuasion Check) Encourage them and inspire them to do the right thing.
(Intimidation Check) Either they do their job or they go back to prison.
(Deception Check) Stretch the truth. Technically, he can't pardon them yet.
(Bribe Check) Think of the money. The raiders must have a literal hoard of loot.
