3 months before Beacon

The room was dark, lit dimly by a single lamp whose battery was near death. Located in the center of the room was a simple metal table, accompanied by two chairs on opposite sides. One of the chairs sat empty; the other, however, was occupied by a young sleeping man chained by his wrists to the table.

The young man jerked awake, shaking the table as he instinctively recoiled his hands away from the cold metal. But despite the pulling, he was unable to free himself from the chains. The man looked around, his black hair fell in front of his eyes, a result of the rough time the man had experienced lately. His breath was ragged, betraying his nerves to any listeners. He tried once more to free himself before slamming his fists on the metal table.

“Hello?” The man shouted, voice rough and hoarse.

He was met with dreadful silence. The young man shifted in his seat, uneasy at the lack of response.

“Hello?” He called out again.

This time, his question was answered by the sound of a lock clicking on the far side of the room and light flooded into the dimly lit room. The young man could make out the silhouette of an older man walk into the room before the door closed behind him and darkness once more descended on the room.

The older man stood out of view of the dying lamp’s light. His face was obscured by shadows and darkness. The young man pulled hard on his chains once more. This time, the table scrapped a couple inches on the ground.

“Now now. There is no need for panic,” The older man reassured in a calm voice, “You’re safe.”

The young man shook his head in anger. “If I’m safe, why am I chained up in a dark room, presumably to be interrogated by you?”

The older man gave a brief chuckle before moving into the light, sitting down opposite of the young man. He rested a cane on the edge of the table and folded his hands. His hair was grey and he sported a pair of spectacles he wore low on his nose.

“To see what kind of man you are… Mr. Fale.” The older man said, the young man went pale as his name was said, “Perhaps it would make you more comfortable if I called you by your first name Indy.”

The older man spoke once more, but not before setting a long bundle on the table. He unraveled it to reveal a shining greatsword that appeared to sparkle in the light of the dying lamp.

“One week ago, I heard an unsettling report about a village not far from Vale. Bandits and the Creatures of Grimm. The whole village was wiped out was what the report said. However, when a huntsman arrived on scene, he found the bodies of the bandits scattered about, the ashes of Grimm littered the ground like snow. And at the center of it all… was you, clutching this sword with frozen fingers… I want to hear the full story.” The old man said, keeping his fingers laced and leaned back in the chair.

“Who are you?” Indy asked the older man.

“You can call me Professor Ozpin, someone who is interested in learning how you managed to survive a simultaneous bandit raid and Grimm encounter.” The professor answered, “Start at the beginning, where all of this trouble first descended on your village Mr. Fale.”

…

The winter winds whipped through the valley, bringing with it the cold and snow. The sun hung low in the darkening sky, the last touches of gold danced across the horizon. The town was busy during the evening. Hunters were returning from their journeys, laden with the fruits of their endeavors. Tailors and weavers sat on porches, working their craft.

Behind one of the houses came the sounds of fighting. Wood hitting wood. Indy held a wooden sword in his hands, pointing it in a defensive stance against the other combatant, a much older man. He was grizzled, sporting a great deal of scars and a rough beard.

“Come on, you’re gonna have to hit harder than that lad.” The older man taunted, beckoning Indy to strike at him.

Indy’s feet moved with a practiced grace, the snow shifted as he moved. With a sudden ferocity, he lunged at the older man who blocked the strike easily. The older man retaliated, knocking Indy off of his feet. Indy hit the ground hard, but the snow helped mitigate the fall. The old man pointed his wooden sword at Indy’s neck.

The old man gave a hearty laugh and extended his hand towards Indy, who accepted it and got to his feet. The fight continued, Indy let off an unrelenting assault towards the old man, which eventually wore down the veteran fighter’s guard.

“Alright, alright. I relent.” The old man laughed as Indy knocked the wooden sword out of his hand.

“You know Sal… I just got this coat clean. You wouldn’t believe the fuss Nana gave me when you had me fight in the mud.” Indy laughed, hunched over.

“Oh, pay no mind to the silly woman. She’s happy to clean it.” Sal responded, resting one hand on Indy’s back, “Say, what do you think about a quick stop by the inn. Think they’d mind parting with some of their good food? Preferably that soup the cook makes.”

The old man took his hand off the younger man’s back and started walking to the main road of the village.

“Sal… you know you’re not allowed in there. Not after last time.” Indy reminded the old man, standing up.

Sal turned around, shrugging to Indy, “What? He had it coming.”

“He asked for the salt, Sal.” Indy laughed and followed the old man into the road, brushing off his peacoat.

The snow was falling faster now, and the wind was picking up. The tailors and weavers had started returning indoors. Window shutters were closing to keep out the wind and snow. Sal walked, unfazed by the dropping temperature, towards the inn he was banned from. The older man stepped onto the wooden porch and kicked the snow off of his boots, reaching for the doorknob. Suddenly, without warning, a loud bell rang. The piercing sound interrupted the silence that had fallen on the small village.

“Bandits!” Someone shouted in the distance before gunfire cracked through the valley like thunder.

Sal recoiled from the door, turning to Indy.

“Boy, my sword… It’s in the house.” Sal shouted, grabbing the young man’s shoulder.

“I’ll get it and bring it right back, don’t worry.” Indy nodded, turning to run towards Sal’s residence but was pulled back by the older man.

“No… Indy, grab the sword and get Misty. You remember the code for the bunker?” Sal asked, glancing from the young man to the edge of the road, where fire was sparking in the houses.

“Zero, one, four, six.” Indy answered.

“Go.” Sal said, pushing the young man along before drawing a simple dagger that hung from his waist.

Indy sprinted down the road, more gunfire and the sound of explosions rocked the village. Buildings roared with flame, snow was mixing with ash as they fell. Indy reached the door to Sal’s house, kicking it down and rushing in.

“Misty! Misty!” Indy called out, his voice was drowning in the cacophony of sounds that came from outside.

Indy rushed to the top floor, kicking down a door to a bedroom where he found Misty. The girl was barely ten years of age. She was cowering in the far corner of the room.

“Misty… you have to come with me.” Indy said, running over to the terrified girl, “Misty, come on!”

The girl wouldn’t budge, fear had gripped every muscle of her. Indy huffed in frustration and grabbed the girl, heaving her over his shoulder and running back downstairs. The fire was getting closer, being driven by the wind. Indy shouldered open the door to the living room and set Misty down.

Above the fireplace that rest on the edge of the house, hosted on two pegs, lie a greatsword. The metallic sheen of the blade shone in the harsh light of the fire outside. Indy took a sharp breath as he read the inscription below the sword.

Beware the Edge of the Light

Not many come back from the dark temptation that lies just beyond.

The metal was cold in his hands despite the heat that was now lapping at the walls of the house. Indy shook himself from the trance and took the sword off the wall. He returned to the girl and picked her back up, carrying the sword by his side. Indy kicked open the backdoor and went to the edge of the fenced in backyard. Indy set Misty down once more and moved to a cellar door.

The young man reached for the keypad as more explosions and the sound of gunfire erupted from the town center. Indy tapped the keys and the lock disengaged. He wrenched the door open and grabbed the terrified girl again, lowering her into the safe room. He was about to step into the cellar when he heard Sal shout in the distance.

“Stay here.” Indy told Misty, who nodded as the young man closed the door to the safehouse and engaged the lock.

Clutching the greatsword in his hand, Indy crept back towards the inn where he heard Sal shout. He poked his head around the corner of the house and saw what he feared. A group of bandits, all armed with an assortments of rifles, swords, spears, and axes stood in front of the town’s inn. There were five of them, circled around Sal who was brought to his knees. The dagger that Sal had used was nowhere to be found.

“It’s over old man. Give up.” The bandit leader shouted, he wielded a rifle with a nasty bayonet attached to it.

“And let you slaughter innocent civilians? People who have not wronged anyone?” Sal asked defiantly, “Never.”

“So be it.” The leader said, shrugging and squeezing the trigger of his rifle.

The shot that rang out was deafening to Indy, who watched as his mentor and adopted father slumped and fell to the ground. Lifeless.

“No!” Indy shouted, sprinting from behind the cover of the building to confront the bandits. The greatsword flashed in the dying light of the sun, who had now descended beneath the horizon, leaving only a small amount of orange in the sky.

“Another sheep to the slaughter… so be it. Men, cut him down.” The leader told the rest of the bandits, pointing at Indy with his rifle.

Two bandits surged forward, one raising an axe and the other brandishing a wicked spear. Indy narrowly avoided immediate decapitation from an axe swing and rolled back. The young man gripped the hilt of Sal’s sword with both hands, the grip was warm despite the frozen snow falling around them. The bandit with the spear rushed towards Indy. The bandit let out a guttural yell as he stabbed the spear towards Indy’s heart. The young man brought the sword up to deflect the blow. White flames shot from the impact, lighting the ground around Indy on fire, melting the snow. The black peacoat tugged with the wind as Indy spun towards the axe wielder, bringing the sword down. The bandit jumped backwards but an arc of white flame that matched the sword’s swing shot out towards the murderer. The bandit tried to roll away but was caught by the edge of the flames, rapidly engulfing him in the deadly heat.

“What are you doing men! Get in there and kill him!” The bandit leader shouted, raising his rifle and taking a couple shots in Indy’s direction.

The two other bandits that hadn’t joined the fight yet rushed forward to help their spear wielding brother-in-arms. One held a rifle in his hands, attached underneath the barrel of the gun was a pistol that fired a round whenever the main gun fired. The other held a sword in his hand, curved and dangerously sharp.

The cold snow never touched the ground, melting as flames shot from Indy’s sword which flashed with each swing. The greatsword felt fluid in the young man’s hands. The silver metal gleaned with each swing. Shots rang from both bandits who wielded guns, but the shots went wide as the smoke and snow never gave them a clear shot at the fighter. Indy swung the sword at the spearman, shattering his weapon, the white flame engulfed him as well.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air with smoke. The spearman’s screams died down shortly as the white flames finished him off. Three bandits remained. The swordsman rushed Indy, ducking under the young man’s slice, and tackled him to the ground. Sal’s sword clattered to the ground as the bandit raised his wicked blade to end Indy’s life.

A surge of energy welled in Indy’s chest, the dancing light in between Indy and the bandit seemed to distort. The bandit raised an eyebrow before the distortion burst, sending the bandit flying upwards. Another light distortion exploded next to the greatsword, sending it back into Indy’s hands as he stood.

“What is this?” The bandit leader shouted, as the swordsman bandit slammed into the ground.

Indy swung the greatsword, lancing fire at the recovering bandit. Like the others, he was set ablaze. The bandit leader grabbed the collar of the last surviving bandit under his command and threw him at Indy.

“Kill him!” He shouted in rage, letting off a full clip of his rifle.

The bullets rang out, but none hit their target. Light distorted once more, around the bandit that was thrown towards Indy. The burst shot the bandit straight into the blade Indy had thrust forward. The young fighter kicked the man off his blade and dropped into a defensive stance, breathing heavily. Despite his body being unharmed, the stress of battle was reaching him. His shoulders rose and fell in jagged breaths, the air was tainted with the smoke of burning bodies and buildings.

“Fine… I’ll do things myself.” The bandit leader huffed, raising his rifle and firing a burst towards Indy.

The shots whizzed past the young man’s face as he rolled to avoid them. The white flames scorched the ground, unabated by the melting snow. The sun had now fallen completely behind the horizon, the burning village was lit now by the flames and Remnant’s shattered moon. The bandit leader sprinted forward as Indy stood from his roll, screaming out as he aimed the bayonet affixed to his rifle at the young man’s neck. Indy barely brought his sword up in time, but the force of the blow from the much stronger man knocked the sword out of his hand. Indy extended his hand towards the sword and the light distorted around it, exploding and sending it back towards Indy.

The bandit leader was quick to react, taking a quick shot at the sword. The bullet connected with the flat of the blade, grounding it once more. Before Indy could react, the bandit leader slammed the butt of the rifle into his chest. This blow knocked the air out of Indy’s lungs. He struggled to breathe amidst the ash and smoke.

“I’m done with this game, no more.” The bandit leader muttered to no one in particular as he advanced on his opponent.

Indy struggled to get up but received a quick kick to the ribs, sending him scattering back. The bandit leader didn’t relent. He advanced on the young man and hoisted him by his neck.

“Give up and die like the old man!” The leader yelled.

Indy spat in his holder’s face, resulting in a very loud yell and another kick. Indy was knocked about ten feet from the bandit leader, groaning as he stood back up. The bandit leader raised his rifle, he had a clear shot. No smoke obscured the firing line between him and Indy.

It happened in slow motion for Indy, the snowfall slowed to a crawl as the bandit leader squeezed the trigger. A shot rang out, straight for Indy’s chest. Indy extended his hand, the light in between him and the bandit leader distorted then rapidly burst. Indy could feel the bullet graze his face, knocked off by his semblance. The young man sprinted forward, sliding to the ground and distorting the light underneath the bandit leader. The explosion sent the man flying upwards, only to be knocked back into the ground by another detonation. Indy pounced on the man, pinning him to the ground.

Indy reached his hand towards the greatsword that was sent scattering earlier and it flew back to his hand. He closed his eyes and brought the sword down onto the bandit leader, killing him. Indy’s chest heaved as he slumped backwards, exhausted. He opened his eyes once more and saw the aftermath of the fight. Something he was not prepared to see.

Standing a little ways back, stood Misty. Her bright blue eyes staring blankly into the dark horizon. Indy stood up in panic, running over to the young girl. He dropped the sword on the ground and held her in his arms. Her left hand clutched her side, wet with blood.

“No… no…” Indy said, holding the girl, “Come on… come on…”

The girl turned her head weakly to the young man, “Indy… I’m sorry. Sal always said I was never… a good listener.”

She coughed and winced.

“You’re gonna make it sis, remember what dad and mom said… You’ll be fine if you stay with me. Remember?” Indy said hastily, holding his sister.

“Indy… I’m scared.” Misty breathed, her voice was quiet, barely above a whisper.

The white flames behind Indy started dying down. Tears welled in the young man’s eyes as he held his sister.

“Indy…” Misty whispered.

“Yes?” Indy answered.

“I… love…” Misty never finished the sentence, letting out one last breath as her eyes glazed over.

Indy shook his head, holding his sister, refusing to believe that tonight’s events had occurred. He sat there in silence for the quiet, cold night. In the morning he began a terrible burden. He grabbed a shovel and began digging graves. The howls of Grimm fell deaf on his ears, Indy was focused solely on the task of burying the fallen. When the occasional Grimm roamed into the town, preying on the negative emotions Indy had welled up inside him and the violence that occurred, they were met with savage violence from the young man. It took him two days, stuck in the snow and wind, digging graves to bury his friends and family. He took time to create makeshift gravestones, naming each burial. When the burden was done, he sat down in the town center. He clutched the sword, holding it tight. The last thing Indy heard when he laid down on the cold bed of snow that had been building up, was the sound of soft footsteps. But at this point, Indy couldn’t care. He was exhausted; from fighting, working, and grieving.

…

“Thank you Mr. Fale. Thank you for clarifying,” Professor Ozpin said, “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

Indy nodded, looking away from the older man.

“You have inside you a great courage, and an incredible nature to protect people. Mr. Fale, I cannot fix the wrongs you have experienced in the past. But… I can teach you, train you, so that you can help others never experience these tragedies.” Ozpin said after a long pause.

The young man looked at the professor.

“How?” Indy asked.

“I am the headmaster at Beacon Academy; perhaps you’ve heard of it, perhaps not. We train huntsmen and huntresses, much like the one who found you. I’m offering you a chance to start over, become a huntsman and save people.” Ozpin answered.

“When do we start?” Indy said, as Ozpin handed his sword to him.

The older man stood from his chair and grabbed his cane. He walked to the door before turning his head back towards Indy.

“School starts in 3 months. Get yourself acquainted with Vale, I’m sure you’ll find it quite a pleasant place Mr. Fale. I’ll see you in school.” Professor Ozpin said as he exited the room.