Life in the Tomb, and Being Exhumed

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"It is time for Force training, Acolyte." The machine reminded him once again, for the fifth time in the last three minutes. The fourteen year old glared balefully at him, pulling the loose fitting robe over his shoulders and sliding his arms through the sleeves, and the machine whirred a laugh, as though it wanted to tick him off ahead of training. Which, to be fair, might actually be the case given everything he'd learned already. "Now, now, Acolyte. You are too small and weak yet to scare me with a petulant little glare such as that. Now get dressed, I shall see to the preparations of the training hall ahead of your use."

The robe and pants were a couple years old, now at least, made by Instructor when Jaune had outgrown - or rather destroyed, in several cases - his own clothes. Simple matte black and equally simple cloth for pants and robe both, he felt and looked like the Mistralian monks he remembered seeing on television all the time. Minus the baldness, at least, he looked the part pretty well.

Though if anyone asked he could have done without the metal flip flops, Instructor unable to make anything else with the little material he'd had left after the robes and his thick, cloth belt tied around his stomach to keep the robe closed. Instead, he'd used small metal plates with the last of the cloth used to make the strings that kept them on. 'Better than having nothing between you and the grating' Instructor had said with a mechanical shrug when he'd complained, understandably, about them.

"First thing when I get home, I'm getting some damn boots." He swore to himself once again, the fifth time he'd done it, running a hand through his hair and sighing. He'd adjusted to the uncomfortable things, eventually, of course. But he would enjoy real shoes. "Gotta get out of this hole first, though."

There was only one room for sleeping in inside the Temple, with little more in it than a simple cot tucked in the wall opposite the door and a small set of metal drawers to the right of the door. The room itself was barely even that, only a bit larger than a closet with just enough space for him to sleep, the furniture to fit, and for him to get dressed every morning. It was set off a small hallway only about six feet long, his 'quarters', as Instructor called it, on one side and a small bathroom on the other. Standing shower only, no bathtub even.

But beggars couldn't be choosers, another little snippet Instructor constantly told him on the rare occasion he voiced a complaint.

Through the door opposite the entrance was a longer hallway, about fifteen feet long here, with three doors. One to the right, where the nutrient paste was synthesised from algae, water, and whatever else Instructor put in it. He'd never gone in there and, for the sake of his sanity, he never wanted to for another thing Instructor had said, 'Don't watch your food getting made.'

Which sounded innocent, but something about the way the droid had said it… Unnerved him, about his food.

Across from there was another door into the meditation room, which was darker than it was outside and mostly empty. Inside was only one thing. A simple little red mat, old enough to be threadbare by now, and a single warm orange bulb set in the center of the ceiling. Like his room, it was only big enough for exactly one person to fit inside, and when he was inside he could reach out to touch any wall with the tips of his fingers in any direction. The lighting was warm, though, which was nice.

"Go on in." The droid hummed, Jaune turning to look towards the training hall door where the machine stood, hands clasped behind its back. "Today we're focusing on Force training and control, specifically the latter."

"I'd prefer learning how to use a lightsaber…" He grumbled, face contorted in distaste and aggravation. The machine didn't answer, Instructor knowing it was easier to let him vent and move on. "I suck at control… And I hate meditation days. It's so boring in there… Just sitting for hours, feeling the Force, it's nice but..."

"A lightsaber, while useful, is not your main weapon in a fight, Acolyte." The machine answered simply, approaching him and raising up a hand, three fingers extended. "Your first most important weapon is your-"

"Mind, from which plans and understanding of my enemy comes, and so their fall ultimately derives." He parroted before Instructor could, giving the droid a meaningful look. It tilted its head to the side curiously at him and waved its hand, returning it to the other behind his back, and he recited, "Second is the Force, which can give me the power to observe and thus fuel the Mind in finding solutions, as well as in finding the solutions of others and foiling them or using them to my own ends. Finally is the lightsaber, a tool to be used as I wish it but never relied upon more than the Force or my own mind."

"Good, Acolyte. Most impressive recitation indeed." The droid complimented, head bobbing a rapid nod that Jaune had always taken for it smiling. "You've a strong mind, and you've learned so quickly the ways of Sith and Jedi, at least in principle. Your swordsmanship is even passable, enough that I would trust you to undergo tests outside the Temple if I could. And all done in less than three years. A Revanite born, if I might be so bold. And powerful in the ways of the Force, on both ends, though you can control neither."

"You're stroking my ego." Jaune accused quietly, lacking an heat behind it.

"An ego is a facet of a sentient mind, Acolyte. You need to, and deserve to as an aside, take pride in what you have accomplished so fast." The machine didn't even pretend to deny it, and Jaune hadn't expected it to. It never did, after all. "Slow, to learn or weak Sith Acolytes die, killed in training or by their displeased masters as an example set for the others. You deserve to have pride in your strength, raw and untamed as it might be."

"Raw and untamed won't clear the tunnel, though. Just fuck it up even more." They'd argued about that a year back, and the machine had made perfect sense. A blast of raw power strong enough to push the rock out would shake the mountain, and reseal it. If it didn't cause even worse damages to the mountain.

Sighing, he added in an already tired voice, "Let's get this over with, then." Stepping inside, he settled down onto the threadbare mat, his metal sandals laid by the door and legs folded under him comfortably. When the door didn't close, he looked up in confusion, before Instructor stepped into it, and asked, "What?"

"How do Jedi focus themselves, and how does it differentiate to a Sith's methods?" The machine asked curiously, head tilted to the side with the question. "Please," he said when Jaune looked confused, "humor me."

"Jedi cut themselves off from their emotions as much as they can, let the Force wash over them and simply… Embrace the calm." He answered simply, paraphrasing from one of the dusty tomes he'd spent the first year memorizing and testing on. "A Sith does the opposite. Focuses on pain, rage, hate, or whatever passion drives them in the moment like a… Like a focusing lens on a lightsaber, directing and controlling the Force through it."

"Indeed. Good answer, Acolyte. Excellent, in fact, and not even a recitation.." The droid complimented, whirring a sigh before it continued. "Your own words. Most excellent, that you have progressed so well. I liked your analogy as well, though it makes me sad. But luckily, I have an idea on how to find your focusing lens, where so much else has failed so spectacularly."

"And that is…?" He pressed, curious and cautious in equal measure of the Droid's end goal.

"Fear, Acolyte." The machine answered simply, stepping back and out of the way of the door. It slammed closed and he shot to his feet, glaring at the door in fear and suspicion. The machine's voice echoed in the room a second later, "You've been afraid of the dark since that night, with the Grimm. Use it."

Then the lights cut out, and he was alone, eyes blinking in the pitch darkness of the room. Screaming, he lashed out, fists slamming into the door and demands that shrieked uselessly into the darkness. The Force came rushing to him when he called on it, like a flurry to match the emotions racing through his mind, electricity sparking along his entire body and arcing out against the metal walls of the small room. With a bellow that was two parts fear and one part rage, he swept his arms at the door, a wall of Force slamming into it. Twice more he tried it, but the door and the walls were too strong, the mountain around the walls holding them stock still and the door built with supports to hold it up.

"Use the fear, Acolyte." The voice echoed around him again, the blonde clutching at his head and sinking to his knees in the dark. He could hear the Grimm, snapping, clawing at the steel around them. "Be one with the Force. Like the Sith do, embrace your fear, accept it as part of yourself, use it to drive you. But like the Jedi teach, do not lose to it, yourself or otherwise. This door traps you, seals you inside."

"So tear it down."

As though the words themselves had brought it on, he felt a sudden and different… Shift inside himself, kneeling in the dark. The fear inside him burned bright, and around him the Force responded to his terror by whipping around him in a frenzy of passion and power. But beyond it was calm, the Force beyond his minute tempest of panic, anger and desperation like an ocean of calm.

He'd read about this, the flurry around a Sith was his domain, his tempest to whip up. Most did so just by existing, driven and consumed by passions that fed the Force and drove it into the frenzy. Even a normal person, he knew, had a small tempest of these emotions around them at any given moment. The Force reacted like that to everything that was alive. Sith forced it into a tempest they could funnel, and Jedi fought to have as little impact as possible and instead let the Force carry them as it would.

He could see, and reaching out with a hand feel, both though, like they were real. Waves of water, white and black, slamming and raging against each other where he and his effects ended and the natural state of the Force began. Reaching out with his hand and his mind, he let the calm wash into him, but didn't let it take him. Instead, he let it contain him, pushed his fear and pain into it, let it mix together inside of his mind and his body.

And then roared it forward, slamming a fist into the door. The Force, Light and Dark sides both, answered in a swirl of power that warped the heavy metal door. The Force spiraled into the metal like a drill, clutching and tearing right at its center. It screeched free and shot out, slamming against the door across from it, and he staggered out in its wake. Chest heaving and eyes wild, he whirled right and then left, and saw Instructor.

"Excellent work. Positively wonderful." It said, bringing its hands around in front of it and holding the long staff in its metal fingers. A lightsaber, double sided and as tall as his torso was, made of shiny steel. A simple weapon, unornamented and plain even, but the machine held it out to him like something saintly and said, "Take your weapon, Apprentice. You've passed your test and found the way to blend the Force within you."

"This is…" He trailed off, a hand reaching out to brush against the smooth, cool steel towards the ends and then grooved in the center for grip. It called to him, the same way as the cave entrance, the same way as the statue, and he realized. "This is his lightsaber. T-The Sith Lord's-"

"You have embraced his philosophies, and his interpretations of Revan's as well. And excelled at both, even passing the first real test posed to you with flying colors." The machine cut in, sounding… Proud, in a genuine way, for the first time in Jaune's entrapment here. "I was… Programmed to wait here, until the day an Apprentice came who personified what Lord Arkanius believed."

"You," the machine said, grasping a hand with its own and pushing the staff into it, "are that Apprentice, Jaune Arc."

"I understand…" The weapon was heavy in his hand, heavier at least than he'd thought it would be. He was angry, the fear still running through him, but he let the Force push it aside and asked simply, "What's next, Master?"

"Next," the machine sounded amused again, at what, Jaune couldn't even hazard a guess, but it sounded very amused as it spoke, "you go back in the room, and do it again. And again, and again, until you are able to do it on command. Then, you'll be ready."

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"Are you afraid?" The machine asked two years later, its head tilted to the side in the odd way it conveyed its curiosity. He didn't answer immediately, just looking at the sealed entryway and scratching the beard he'd grown, three inches long and braided. "Failure could be grave, so if you fear you aren't ready to attempt this then-"

"I'm ready." He snapped shortly. Shorter than he'd meant to, enough that he grimaced but not enough that he apologized. "Just… Give me a moment to prepare, please, Master."

Reaching up, he pulled the shoulder-length hair along his head, fingers deftly tying it so it fell in a ponytail behind him. His bands were too short, instead hanging down the sides of his face, but they didn't block his sight so he didn't mind. He needed a trim for them, but he was waiting until his sister could do it. Saphron gave the best haircuts, after all, and he was looking forward to it.

Assuming she didn't kill him when he showed up to dinner four and a half years late or so, wearing black, baggy rags and plinking along with metal sandals.

He seized on that sense of hope and desire, channeling the innate greed of wanting something into the Dark Side to gather his strength and the Lighter wish to be with family. The different sides of the Force within hi stirred at the prodding, the Dark tempest whirling to life while the calmness of the ocean like Light side contained it. Let it thrash and scream against its gentle tides, and let the ragged passions send tremors out into the waters of the Light Side inside him, eventually stilling once more, his desire and greed like drops in an ocean of infinite scope.

He barely even affected the Light, and so it answered his call alongside the Dark.

"Open the door." He murmured, eyes opening, glowing faintly green as the Force suffused him and mixed, intermingling inside him and bubbling up. "I'm ready to leave this place."

Without a word, the droid looked to the door and it clicked, scraping open as the stone pressed against it and screeched along the other side. The rocks began to tumble down, hundreds of them man-sized or larger, and he roared in defiance at the mountain itself that had imprisoned him so long. Greed, love, fear, family, all mixing together and surging along his limbs and through his fingertips, the energy bursting from them in quantities he'd never dared summon before. So strong was his desire that the rock and stone slowed its descent, the closest rocks hovering in the air near enough he smelled the earth on them and his fingers touched the rocks that had gotten near.

Then, with a noise that was caught between a grunt of strain and effort and defiance, he snarled and took a short, load laden step forward. The rock and stone went with him, heaving back under the force of his will. Hundreds of tons of rock, lifted and hovering, pushing back against itself at his wish and the Force's granting of it.

He took another step, sweat beading on his brow and body trembling, and nearly sank to his knees. Fear swept through him at that realization, the Temple would fall if he failed, and he'd die. Instructor would die.

"Focus, Apprentice." Instructor said, voice cold and clear, like a knife cutting into his tension and fear. "Not on your fear, but on your desire. Is it worth the pain? The suffering? The work? You have been through hell enough for four years. Only to die here?"

"N-No." But the weight was so great.

"Then take what you want. Envision it in your mind, and speak its name into the Force." The machine said, stepping to his right shoulder and raising a hand, laying cool metal on his forearm and adding quietly, "I am weak, after so long. But use what I have, let my power flow through you. Now do you have what you want?"

"Yes."

"Speak it." The machine ordered, fingers digging into softe, unprotected flesh painfully. Only adding to the Dark Side's tempest.

"Ansel. Juniper. Saphron." Name after name came, flowing from his lips and mind both and echoing out, into the Force with a cascade of Light and Dark both. Each word a step, each name a burden shoulder and pushed forward like the stones before him, each utterance a trudging, heavy step upwards into the black of the tunnel.

It took four hours before, finally, he saw light and began releasing the rocks at the back of his pile. The weight gave way in hundred-pound intervals, until, finally, he stepped out in the bright sun of noon and fell to his knees, heaving for breath. The air was frigidly cold, so much so he wasn't sure whether his tremors were from strain and in an effort to get a breath, or an effort to get warm. Overhead, the sky was overcast and, in smatterings in the across the forest around his mountain, he could see some of the heavier clouds showering the forest intermittently.

It was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen in his entire life.

Sensing motion, he looked to his left and his eyes widened, a massive Ursa lumbering around the corner. It sniffed twice, covered in spines and scarred plates, and he stumbled to his feet, the Grimm snarling at him and trundling closer. Reaching behind himself, he pulled the lightsaber around, but he knew he was too slow. Exhausted from the labor of moving so much, for so long, and so far. The Force came to his fear and hope, then the latter shattered and the former sparked away, his mind and body too exhausted to go on without resting first to recover.

Instructor, though, was fresh as could be. It stepped by, snapping the lightsaber from his hands and throwing it into its left, the twin red lances of energy sparking to life as it moved forward. The other reached behind it and pulled, from the small compartment, a small and silver gun, blocky and rusted in places.

With a snarl, the Grimm swiped and the machine bent back at the waist impossibly, one side of the saber's light dying. Using the bottom as a staff it steadied itself, other arm snapping up and unleashing two bright yellow lances of energy into the Grimm's chest at point black range. The monster snarled and staggered back, left arm pulling back to swipe forward, but it went no further before the droid straightened and thrust forward.

The red lance at the end of the saber sizzled in the Grimm's forehead, bone plating melting away and flesh beneath boiling, before Instructor pulled it free and turned to him.

The red light died and the machine held the weapon out, stating simply, "I shall never again intervene to save you, Apprentice. Am I understood?"

"Yes, Master." He forced out, a force of will alone making him stand and accept the offered weapon, returning it to a loop in his belt on his back. "Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't fight for myself, I was exhausted."

"I know. And it isn't a weakness of the kind you should regret to be exhausted after a quite literally mountainous task." With its off hand the machine turned, long finger pointing far and away, across the forest. "Your home, now, lies there. Not here. You are not welcome in the Temple until you are powerful enough to declare yourself a Lord."

"I understand, Master Instructor." He'd known with every step out of the hole that he'd never return, and been glad for it. Now, though, he turned and looked down the tunnel and felt… Sorrow. "I will return, Master." He swore, turning to the machine, its head tilted curiously at him again, "When I am powerful enough, I'll come back, and make you accept me as a Lord of the Force."

"See that you do." The machine answered simply, turning to descend once more into the Temple and then hesitating. Without looking to him, the ancient machine gave one last order. "Go home, Jaune. You've a family that no doubt buried you more than four years ago. You've much to catch up on."

"Yes, Master." He said quietly, sinking to a knee, fist planted against the stone. He stayed there until the machine disappeared down the tunnel, pulled the thin thin hood sewn onto his shoulders over his head and, once more, forced himself to stand and turned towards Ansel.

Towards home, at long, long last.

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Grimm were attracted to negative emotions, he knew, and that was why so many swarmed over the mountain above the Temple. Even there, deep underground, the Dark Side manifested stronger than elsewhere and the Grimm could feel it. So avoiding them in the forest was an easy enough task to accomplish. Merely an effort of walking calmly and patiently, suffusing himself, or perhaps cloaking himself would be the better way to phrase it, in the Light Side of the Force abounding in the world he passed through.

So the only Grimm he encountered were those who wandered into his path, surprised to see him and cut down by the heat of his saber before they could draw attention onto themselves and him with them.

And finally, as evening drew close, he saw the walls of Ansel emerging through the trees, stepping out and smiling at the sight of the mountain town.

A ten-foot-tall wall made of wooden timbers held up packed soil, soldiers atop walking in light mail and carrying long spears able to stab Grimm at the base of the wall. Several he spotted, leaning against a tree, had cloaks that flowed white and whipped in the wind, the Arc sigil emblazoned proudly on their backs. Beyond that, he knew, would be the settlement's crop fields, storehouses and the farmers who chose to live with their work. Corn, wheat, beans, potatoes and cotton, to supplement what they bought with the little Dust and much metal the settlement mined from the mountains around it.

Beyond that, he could see the cold stone of Ansel's main wall, dark grey stone reaching from one sheer mountain cliff to another. A great, wooden gate, reinforced by dark iron, sat in the center of either wall in a straight line. On that wall, behind low crenellations, more pike-armed soldiers walked, along with the lighter armored riflemen that would fire down on Grimm that attacked that way.

Protected by the twenty feet of solid stone was Ansel proper. Rows and rows of small, stone houses sat, idyllic and full of happy people living their lives. Beyond that, behind a wrought iron fence, sat Arc manor. Made of the same dark grey stone as the Ansel wall, with a large center meeting hall for governing in the middle and two long, three-story buildings to either side of it connected by enclosed walkways and gardens. On one side was where his father and the town's Huntsman worked, maintained gear, and stayed when they needed rest in between missions.

On the right was where his family were, smoke puffing alluringly from the chimneys. "They're home, then…" He murmured, smiling and fighting back a tear that threatened to break at the idea.

Shaking his head, he pushed off the tree and stepped into the long clearcut area leading up to Ansel, soldiers on the wall noting him quickly and calling out to each other. He made a show of his hands being empty and walked calmly up the pathway to the gate, the wood and iron swinging open to two armed guards beyond it.

"What's your business here?" The lead one asked, a young woman with bright blue eyes, a scar along the right of her skull barely covered by her drooping, blonde bangs. "Traveler, refugee, worker, what?"

"Hm. Why hello there." He snorted, smiling slightly at the question and shaking his head slowly before, in a low voice, answering with his head low enough the hood covered most of his face, "Traveler, you could say. Back from a long, long journey, finally headed home, in fact. Four long years, I've been gone, and I'm eager to finally get back."

"Yeah?" She asked, resting the bottom of her pike on the ground below with the haft leaned against her shoulder, eyes narrowed at him, searching his hood for something. Likely anything threatening. Finally, she asked, "Where's your home, then? I can find out when the next Bullhead is in from somewhere near there and direct you to the inn."

"Ansel is my home." He said simply, using the Force to flick his hood off and smiling at the woman. "Hi, Saph. How have you been since I left? I don't remember that scar, so guess not that easy."

"How do you know my…?" She trailed off, eyes suddenly narrowed to sharp slits, looking him up and down. He could see the gears turning in her head, feel her emotions roil suddenly with suspicion and hope intermixing into a cocktail of emotions. "No. It's not… Not possible. Not even a little bit. W-Whoever you are, this isn't a prank you wanna play."

"You used to steal training swords and we'd spar in the back, under the apple tree our great grandfather planted." He said simply, smiling pleasantly at her and bowing his head slightly. "You were older and bigger, and stronger, so I never won unless you let me. Then, we'd eat apples and go back to get yelled at by mom."

"Jaune… Y-You can't be..." Her pike fell and, using the Force and with a flick of his hand, he pitched it safely off the road. Then she was on him, grabbing the side of his face and turning it this way and that, looking him over like she could find the seams of the mask if she tried. He let her, the woman finally relenting and pulling him in for a hug, "Where have you been, you stupid, blonde, idiot?"

"A story I only want to tell once." He answered, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and basking in her sheer presence. Pulling away, he grinned toothily at her and added, "Let's get home, Saph. I'm dying for a good meal, and I want to see everyone."

"Of course." She nodded, pulling away and turning to her partner, the young, dark-skinned woman smiling at her happiness. "Terra, can you take over the watch lead? I know it's alot, but-"

"Get him home, Saph. We'll be fine here, don't worry 'bout a thing." She said simply, turning and calling along the wall, issuing orders and letting them know the changing of the guard.

With a shout of thanks, she grabbed his hand and started tugging him along, towards the manor. Smiling, he murmured one last thing before letting the moment wash over him, "This is where the fun begins."

"I hate it when you mumble like that, Jaune." She called over her shoulder, beaming a bright smile that he knew meant she was teasing. He rolled his eyes and let her drag him along, up the hill towards home.