Jaune mustered the remnants of his strength, his voice a testament to his exhaustion. "I'm Jaune, hailing from Ambiance. I seek respite here for a day before continuing my journey to the next town," he responded, his words laced with weariness and a touch of urgency.
The guard studied him intently, his furrowed brow revealing a mixture of hesitation and sympathy. Casting a quick glance at Jaune's disheveled appearance, the guard's initial wariness seemed to soften, replaced by a curious contemplation.
"Why did you choose to traverse the forest when Ambiance offers a bullhead service that lands nearby? The forest isn't a common route from Ambiance," the guard inquired, his words conveying a genuine desire to understand.
Jaune understood the guard's skepticism, realizing the implications of his chosen path. People weren't as easily fooled as they might seem on the Dust Net or in shows. Suspicion often surrounded those who ventured through forests, raising concerns of criminal activities and denying entry by bullhead services. However, Jaune knew there was more to his story than mere criminal intent.
The forest held secrets and possibilities beyond the ordinary. It served as a training ground for those seeking to hone their skills, confronting the Grimm and pushing the boundaries of their capabilities. It was a realm of growth and self-discovery, a place where warriors embraced challenges and evolved.
Jaune considered using this explanation to assuage the guard's doubts, though he sensed it might not be enough to sway the man and his comrades. After all, why would he embark on such a training expedition unarmed and without a companion?
But it wasn't a tale he could fully share, for revealing the depths of his personal struggles would betray his respect for his father's efforts to ensure their family's prosperity. Jaune couldn't tarnish his father's memory with such revelations.
He had to tread carefully, revealing a partial truth that carried a grain of authenticity. "I made a hasty decision to embark on a training journey. Unfortunately, my weapon and armor proved inadequate when faced with an Ursa. This sorry state I'm in is the aftermath of that encounter," Jaune explained, his expression sheepish yet earnest, attempting to downplay the magnitude of his plight.
The guard's frown deepened, his hand gripping the sword hilt with increasing tension. A sense of foreboding filled the air, as if the atmosphere itself warned of impending danger.
"You appear to be a teenager, a combat class at that," the guard remarked, his voice edged with skepticism. "Your story has holes, young one. As a member of the militia, I am well-acquainted with these forests and frequently embark on training trips to clear the area of the surrounding Grimm."
With a deliberate motion, the guard drew his weapon, the metallic ring resonating like a somber symphony against the scabbard. Jaune's heart skipped a beat, a knot forming in his stomach. It seemed the people in this town were less than welcoming, their suspicions intensifying in the face of his explanation.
"All combat classers your age should have little trouble fending off the weaker Grimm that inhabit these woods. Your situation doesn't quite add up," the guard continued, his words carrying a weight of scrutiny.
The tension in the air thickened, as if the guards and their silent allies were poised to intervene if the situation escalated. Jaune cursed inwardly, racking his brain for a way to convince them of his innocence.
Then, a spark of inspiration ignited within him, fueled by his ever-active imagination. It was time to put his creative thinking to the test.
"The class orb!" Jaune blurted out suddenly, his voice ringing with a mix of desperation and revelation.
The guard's expression remained unchanged, his demeanor unimpressed. Jaune's internal panic grew, but he knew he had to remain calm and diplomatic in this precarious situation. In his previous world, provoking authority figures only led to violent confrontations, and this world proved to be even more treacherous.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Jaune hastily proposed a way to prove his innocence. "Remember your earlier speculation about combat class individuals my age easily dispatching the Grimm in these forests? Well, the truth is far more intriguing, more mysterious than fiction. You see, my current level is level 4."
He paused, allowing the weight of his revelation to sink in. The guard's expression transitioned from confusion to shock to disbelief, the transformation evident in his widened eyes and slackened jaw.
"You must be lying," the guard finally retorted, his voice tinged with a mix of incredulity and amusement. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that you, at the age of seventeen, are merely at level 4? I'd sooner believe you're a secret level 100 Illusionist than a low-level novice."
The guard's amusement only served to fuel Jaune's determination. He needed to defuse the tension, to convince them that he posed no threat.
The chuckles of the guard's comrades echoed in the air, their mirth highlighting the peculiarity of Jaune's predicament. It seemed his situation truly was a bizarre one.
Undeterred by their reactions, Jaune maintained his composure and responded, "I can prove it. Bring me a class orb and assess my level. Once you see the results, you'll know I'm telling the truth." Though outwardly confident, inwardly he felt a pang of embarrassment.
The guard, Bolo, sighed in exasperation, taking a step forward as if readying his sword. "Do you really want to go through this charade, kid? Just give it up and tell us the truth," he implored, a hint of weariness in his voice.
Sensing that he was on the verge of convincing them, Jaune pressed on, offering his final plea. "What have you got to lose? Bring me a class orb, and you'll discover whether my words are false or not. I'm weaponless and defenseless. Even if I wanted to harm you, I pose no threat."
The guards exchanged glances, their hesitation palpable. Bolo, the lead guard, took a moment to confer quietly with his companion. Jaune strained his ears and caught snippets of their conversation.
"Could be a criminal—"
"Telling the truth—"
"Lying—"
After their rapid deliberation, Bolo sighed and motioned for Jaune to come closer, sheathing his weapon but keeping a firm grip on its hilt. The other guards swiftly relayed orders to those manning the two guard towers, instructing them to open the town gates.
A sense of relief washed over Jaune as he followed Bolo through the gates. Adjacent to the gates stood a small guard station where the others rested during their shifts. Jaune obediently sat down on a bench, awaiting the retrieval of the class orb.
As he followed the instructions without hesitation, several guards discreetly eased their tense postures. There was something about the way Jaune carried himself that indicated he posed no threat.
Bolo settled down beside him, his wariness lingering but somewhat subdued, granting Jaune the benefit of the doubt. They sat in silence, awaiting the return of their comrade with the class orb.
The class orb, a curious invention crafted by mages over the centuries, was not capable of discerning a person's specific class or skills. However, it could display their level, age, and true name. It served as a countermeasure against enchanted objects that could conceal a person's class and level. While not foolproof, it was unlikely that most individuals possessed the exceptional skills required to deceive the orb.
After a brief wait, the class orb was brought forth from its storage. Bolo issued a final warning to Jaune, his tone a mixture of caution and firmness. "If you are lying, you will be arrested and jailed. Are you certain you wish to proceed? You may be a child, but I won't take it lightly if you prove to be a threat."
Jaune's confidence remained unshaken. He knew that his statements were true, and being at such a low level would automatically diminish the likelihood of him being a criminal target. High-level individuals would find it far easier to apprehend such individuals.
"I'm sure," Jaune affirmed, his voice resolute.
The guards exchanged glances, acknowledging the determination in his expression. They placed the class orb in front of Jaune, its enchantment ready to reveal the truth.
"Hover your palm over the orb, Jaune," one of the guards instructed, a touch more courteous than before.
Jaune complied, extending his hand and positioning it above the orb. In an instant, floating words materialized above the orb's surface, displaying his level, age, and true name. Jaune withdrew his palm, allowing the guards to examine the details without obstruction.
.
Jaune Arc
Age: 17
Level: 4
.
The expressions of shock and disbelief on the guards' faces were truly priceless. Jaune couldn't help but wish he had a camera to capture such a remarkable moment.
"Wow... I can't believe what I'm seeing," one of the guards exclaimed.
"Am I dreaming? Pinch me!" another chimed in.
"The orb must be malfunctioning, right?"
"Maybe he's just a master trickster playing us all."
Before any of the other guards could voice their thoughts, Bolo, the lead guard, rose from his seat. His face held a mix of amusement and genuine interest.
"Well, it appears you were telling the truth all along, Jaune Arc. I can hardly believe it, though. You might just be the weakest combat classer I've ever encountered at your age, except perhaps for those who have lost limbs and can't afford to regrow them."
Sheepishly, Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, a look of discomfort crossing his face.
"I mean... everyone has their own journey, I suppose, but it's quite unusual for someone to be at such a low level. Even dedicating a few hours a day to practicing sword skills under an instructor should have gotten you to at least level 13 by now."
Bolo rambled on, his expression reminiscent of a curious cat. Jaune couldn't help but acknowledge the truth in his words.
Unfortunately, hiring an instructor had been a luxury Jaune couldn't afford for an extended period. The swordsmanship styles he had been taught were basic, focusing on stances and sword handling. Most of his ability, if it could even be called that, was self-taught.
"I'd rather not discuss the reasons, sir. There are... a few of them, actually, but... well, I value my privacy."
Bolo regarded Jaune for a moment before relenting, helping him up from the chair.
The other guards eyed him with a mix of intrigue and curiosity, and to some extent, they were right. Jaune offered an awkward smile as he was released from the guard station.
Bolo walked him to the town's entrance and gave him a reassuring pat on the back.
"Don't cause any trouble in this town, Jaune. I mean it. Despite your low level, I have a feeling there's more to your story. As long as you're here, we'll be keeping an eye on you, kid."
Sighing, Jaune replied, "Seriously, I have no intentions of stirring up trouble here. I'm just passing through to rest and recover before continuing on to the next town. I have a destination in mind, but I'd rather not share it." He raised his arms in a half-shrug to emphasize his point.
Bolo paused, giving him a smirk, a somewhat half-hearted grin.
"To each their own, I suppose. Go on, enjoy yourself. Good luck with whatever you're pursuing, I guess." With those parting words, Bolo bid Jaune farewell and returned to his post at the entrance, joining the other guards.
Jaune shook his head in exasperation and proceeded to step into the town. And so, he was granted his first proper view of Ansel, the place that held mysteries yet to be unraveled.