A/N: Salvete, amici! (Hello, friends!)

And we're back! Getting some different perspectives this time (Yang, Blake, and Jaune). Hope you all enjoy!

Chapter III: One Quiet Night

Yang yawned. Today's battle had been exhausting, and she'd only managed a few hours of sleep last night. Her new slave stood silently before her, hands tied in rough-hewn hemp. Red-stained bandages bound her wounds tight, from Yang's own medical equipment. Eyes downcast, she followed her new master to the paymaster's tent.

"Yeah, normally, I'd get us some well-deserved wine and get on with a nap, but I gotta get you registered. Sorry about this."

Blake said nothing. I don't blame her. It's amazing she's even standing. I couldn't even try to imagine myself in her place right now. Many of her comrades stood around them, all queuing to receive their new tattoos. I'm saving her. Yang reminded herself. No one deserves crucifixion.

"So, care to tell me why you were in that battle?"

Blake said nothing.

"Really? Nothing?"

"You are my master. Order me to speak." She said icily. Yang huffed. She'd managed to provoke a response, but not the one she'd hoped.

"That's no fun." The line shifted forward. "That's cheating." Blake's ears turned, flattening against her long black hair.

"Is this just some game to you then?" Yang shrugged. She hadn't even gotten to take her armor off yet, and her shoulders ached. The chainmail was an annoyance as well, straining tight against her ample chest.

"If I forced you, you'd probably just lie to me." Blake mulled that over, falling silent once more. Yang appraised her new slave for what must have been the sixth time in the past two hours. She was quiet, (who wouldn't be, after a slaughter like that?), but had a keenness to her that was hard to puzzle out. Her yellow eyes constantly shifted and darted, taking in as much information as possible. Either she's plotting, or just naturally curious.

They finally arrived at the makeshift desk that had been set up in front of the paymaster's tent. Three officials sat behind it, one with a heavy ledger, one who counted coins, and one that bore a ratty needle. Legionary guards stood at attention behind them, clearly bored and just as tired as Yang. The woman with the ledger spoke first.

"I've been instructed to inform you that the Legion is purchasing captives for the standard bonus of twenty denarii. Do you accept?" Yang shook her head.

"I'm holding onto this one."

"Very well. Her upkeep will be four denarii a month, to be deducted from your monthly salary. Is this acceptable?"

"It is." A small expense, compared to the benefits of having a handy slave around.

"Noted. Name, rank, centuria and cohort?"

"Milites Yang. Fourth Centuria, Second Cohort." She made a few marks in her tome.

"Noted. If you would?" Yang nodded. With a mumbled apology, she pulled at the collar of Blake's tunic, revealing scarred and brutalized skin. Whoever her previous owner had been, they must have been a remarkably cruel master to subject their slaves to such a large brand. At least they did not put it on her forehead, as was the wont of many slave-owners.

"Put it… here." She said, pointing to a patch of clean skin at the base of Blake's neck. The burly man with the needle nodded, leaning forward to apply the tattoo. Yang held her firmly as the man worked, his needle pumping up and down. No sound escaped Blake; no tears came to her eyes.

She's remarkably strong… Yang mused. It took him a minute to complete his task, such was his speed.

Finished, the man nodded at Yang.

"Next!" The woman called. Pulling gently at Blake's tethers, she strode off to find Fourth Centuria. The tattoo was weeping blood, roughly etched in raw, red skin. Yang couldn't read most of the marks, but she did recognize the symbols that made up her name. Blake was hers. Drawing her pugio, Yang slit the ropes that bound her hands, freeing her. She stared at her hands for a time.

"Alright, finally! Bet that feels good. Now let's go find Ruby! Hopefully the poor girl didn't agitate that officer too badly." Blake didn't say anything. When they returned to the Fourth Centuria, Yang's comrades were hard at work preparing the tent. There was no sign of Ruby, which was deeply worrying. She didn't mouth off at the woman, did she?

"Jupiter's cock!" She spat. Ruby was kind and levelheaded, but had an unpredictable streak as well. Blake's eyes turned to her.

"My sister's not here. Ah, she better not have gotten into trouble!"

"You… have a sister?" Yang sighed.

"I did this morning, but Mara protect her, I don't know if I will by the end of the night." Blake's ears twitched, intrigued. Despite her growing worry, Yang found it incredibly cute. "She might have gotten into trouble with the officers." The faunus nodded. After another few minutes of aimless wandering, she found the Fourth Centuria.

"Salvete!" She cried, greeting her contuburinum.

"Salve!" They replied. Her decanus, Cardin Winchester, noticed her companion.

"And who is this?" He asked, raising a thick eyebrow. It made Yang squirm. Cardin was a huge brute of a man, with short brown hair and a temper to match.

"Everyone, this is Blake. She's my slave, so she'll be helping us out for the next few years." Blake held her head high, gazing upon the legionnaires as if they were no more than worms in the dirt. "Oh, and if any of you goat-fuckers put your grubby hands on her, I'll break 'em." A few of her comrades shuddered. Yang had been infamous during training for her willingness to face opponents unarmed… and win. Easily.

"Hey, any of you guys see Ruby?" A few shrugs.

"Not since the battle." Dove said. Yang sighed. Hopefully, she'd find out soon.

"Oh, how's Sky by the way?" He'd suffered a nasty wound. Cardin's eyes narrowed, still appraising Blake.

"With the medic. He'll live, as long as he avoids infection."

"Good." She started unbuckling her armor, desperate to be free of the weight. As always, the lower left strap of her lorica hamata was giving her trouble. "Blake, could you help me with my armor? These guys need a hand with the tent. I always have trouble with these lower straps," she explained, pointing at the offending leather.

Deft hands pulled at the straps, finally freeing Yang from the press of her armor.

"Whew! Thanks!" Air, sweet air! A loud sigh escaped her as she enjoyed her chest's newly-found freedom. "Take a rest, Blake." She said, throwing a wink at the faunus girl. "Those cuts looked pretty bad." She remained silent, carefully placing the leather and mail on the ground.

Dusk fell upon the Roman camp, the orange ball of flame sinking behind the distant tree line. Jaune watched it go, thoughts weighing like an anvil upon his mind. Today was the first day he saw battle, tasted the horrors of war. It was assuredly nothing compared the civil war that had ripped Rome apart a decade ago, but still, he could not help but reflect.

With a shout, he had followed Weiss into battle, cutting down slaves left, right, and center. She had been the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. And his loyalty had been repaid with scorching vitriol. His breath left him, slow and steady.

"Are you well, Sir?" He jumped, startled by the sudden voice.

"Oh! Uh, salve, Pyrrha." She tipped her head in acknowledgement, polite as could be. Clad in a fine toga, she had removed her armor a scant few hours ago. However, her copper battle-headdress remained, a finely-wrought circlet that held several green stones. Red hair spilled out from underneath it, impossibly rich and luxuriant.

"Good evening, Lord Arc. What troubles you so?" He turned to face her, a lying smile on his face.

"Not much. Thought I'd keep watch over the camp." He said, cringing at the terrible lie. She smiled.

"I know a lie when I see one, Roman." She said playfully. Jaune laughed. Ever since his father hired the veteran a few months back, he had enjoyed her company immensely. The Arc patriarch had sent her off with him, claiming her expertise and raw skill could be a useful asset to his untested son. Tales of her exploits with the famed Silvershield Company were well regarded abroad, but Jaune heard not a word of them before meeting her in his atrium. However fearsome her reputation, Pyrrha turned out to be an unflinchingly kind and loyal companion. Her face was always lit with a radiant smile, eagerness and enthusiasm evident in every gesture, every grin.

"Well, when I seek an expert on lies, I'll find a greek." He shot back. She giggled, a sound that magicked away the worst of Jaune's pains. "No training tonight?" He asked, earning another smile.

"Not for today. Our gallant charge was training enough." True, Jaune thought. They'd carried the day for the Legio Pharos, but it had been a dangerous and exhaustive venture. "It was two years ago the last time I rode out like that. Fought bandits on the banks of the Danube." She said, a hint of wistfulness creeping into her voice.

"Two years ago? You were sixteen when you first rode out like that?" He asked, astounded.

"Well…" She played with her toga, bashful and modest. "The first time I sallied forth, I was thirteen."

"Wow, that's… you're incredible!" She reddened. Probably the cold. She's from Epirus, the local clime must be frigid for her! It is summer, sure, but still!

"You are too kind!" She said, laughing. Jaune grinned too, noticing her eyes were the most radiant green he'd ever seen. "But the fact remains that you are avoiding my question." Juane swallowed. "As your assistant and bodyguard, allow me to help with whatever ails you."

"Well, if you will remain insistent…"

"I shall." Jaune sighed.

"Today… today was the first time I saw battle." He scoffed, embarrassed by his confession to the accomplished warrior. "Unlike you, I did not have the fortune to be born under a warrior's star. I took many lives today. And I went against General Ozpin's advice… all at the behest of Weiss Schnee." He turned to Pyrrha, who was now watching him intently. "Why? Why did I follow her? What would father say? Would he be proud I routed the rebels, or ashamed I was so reckless?"

"Worry not about what your father thinks. He is many miles away, keeping watch over the Senate and your sisters."

"And what do you think, Pyrrha?" She beamed.

"You were given the option to remain idle, yet you acted. In Epirus, one would consider that noble, and so would I."

"Thank you." He said, reddening from the praise. Receiving any at all was still new to the young officer.

"Of course, sir. As for why you followed Tribune Schnee…" Pyrrha said, turning away from him as her smile faded away. "You fancy her, do you not?" The question caught him off guard.

"I… yes. I think so, at least."

"You did not want to see her come to harm?" Jaune shook his head. Pyrrha was not just an exemplary warrior, but keenly perceptive as well. She let loose a long sigh, and examined the grass between her toes.

"I'm afraid I cannot assist you in that matter, sir. I've had few opportunities to make friends and acquaintances, much less… lovers." Her face flushed a vivid red that matched her hair. "Again, my apologies." Jaune laughed

"Then, in that at least, we are equals. And Pyrrha, enough apologizing! I don't think repairing matters of the heart are included in your contract!" He grinned. "I'll deal with Lady Schnee in my own time. But for now, we should join General Ozpin in his tent. I heard he is hosting a small feast to celebrate our victory." He offered her his arm. "Would you care to join me?" Her eyes went wide from shock.

"I… yes. My pleasure, sir."

"Oh, and one more thing… I don't think I can have you calling me 'sir' after I've confided so much in you. Please, just… call me Jaune. Is that acceptable?" She slipped an olive-skinned arm into his, her smile returning in full force.

"I would like nothing better."

Ruby was exhausted. Today had been one of the most strenuous days she'd had since training began. She'd slaughtered almost a dozen rebels, been promoted three times out of turn, and was forced to keep up with Centurion Primus Oobleck's giant, fleeting steps for the rest of the day. How a man moved so fast for so long in so much armor was completely beyond her.

He'd given her a new set of mail, a large crimson cape, steel greaves, a whistle, and a centurion's sideways-plumed helmet. After spending her entire time in the Legion following said helmet, holding one in her hands -that was hers- felt almost dreamlike.

"Centurion Rose!" She gave a high-pitched squeal of alarm. Oobleck had a habit of vanishing, then reappearing like a specter next to her ear… usually yelling.

"What is it, sir?"

"I've been instructed to take you to Lady Schnee's tent after collecting your equipment! If you would follow me, please." He fled, leaving Ruby behind in one of the many equipment tents.

"Wait, sir!" She cried, scooping up her new stuff and hurrying after him. Gods, she mused, nearly tripping over her feet, he is surely a living dynamo. After a few minutes running after her new superior, they came to the tribune's tent.

A fire blazed outside it, beating back the dusk's orange glow and carrying the scent of roasting pork to her nostrils. The last thing she'd eaten was a mere bite of bread this morning… she'd been far too nervous to eat anything else. Her forgotten hunger returned to her at once, almost punching her in the stomach with its sheer force.

"Lady Schnee!" Oobleck bellowed. "I have brought you Centurion Rose!"

"Very well!" The woman cried from within her tent. "You are dismissed!" Oobleck rounded on Ruby.

"It's been a pleasure, Centurion Rose. We will no doubt grow more acquainted in the coming years!" He sprinted off to some unknowable task. Just watching him made her feel drained. Sweeping the tent flap aside, she bowed low.

"You sought me, Lady Schnee?" The interior was warm and inviting. Weiss sat upon a stool , wiping down a curved knife. Blood soaked her rough-spun tunic and splashed her arms in full, gory strokes. A large shrine to Mara sat behind her. Under a striking icon of the goddess lay a small golden bowl, surrounded by candles and assorted herbs. Within it sat a boar's heart, still weeping lifeblood.

"Forgive me for my disheveled state. I've recently made a sacrifice."

"Of course, my Lady. Celebrating today's victory?" The tribune's face twitched.

"Something else, Centurion Rose." That title again. Then, to make awkward matters worse, Ruby's stomach gave a violent roar, protesting her refusal to attend its needs. Weiss stared at her for a second before her face split into a wide smile. "You must be famished. Marble! Where are you? Bring me a washbowl!"

Her adjutant stumbled into the tent, carrying a large wooden bowl. Water sloshed over the edges as he rushed forward to aid his Lady.

"We shall feast soon." She nodded at the washbowl. You first, Centurion." Ruby nodded her thanks, dipping her hands into the cool liquid. She washed the dried dirt and blood from her hands, scrubbing away the sweat and detritus of battle.

Weiss washed as well, ladling great splashes of water over herself as she rid herself of the sacrifice's ichor. Great streams of gore washed down her arms and face. She rinsed her hair as well, cleansing her snow-white hair of any impurities. Red water filled the bowl as the tribune dried herself with a linen rag.

"Do you know why you are here, Centurion Rose?"

"No, my Lady."

"First," Weiss said, "No more of this 'my Lady' nonsense. It irritates me."

"Yes, my Lady." Ruby cringed. She put forth a valiant effort to avoid the tribune's annoyed glare.

"It is unbecoming of a Centurion to bow and scrape like a common dog. You will address me as Tribune Schnee, or Ma'am. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my… ma'am." Ruby finished, relieved she'd caught herself in time. The tent flap opened again, bringing in a burst of chill night air that bore the scent of roasted pork. It took every ounce of willpower not to salivate.

"Marble, could you have the slaves prepare us a table?" He saluted, obeying without a word. Weiss sighed as two of her slaves went to work, placing down tables, dishes, and simple wooden couches. "You are here because Ozpin demanded you be. I am to give you instruction and lessons that will improve your performance as an officer."

"That is sound advice… ma'am." Weiss sat on the couch provided for her. "I am unlearned in many matters of war."

"We will see." Ruby fingers worked, made busy by unsettled nerves.

"Ma'am? A question?"

"Speak."

"Um… this is your first time in the legions as well, is it not? Why would General Ozpin have me learn under you?" Instead of the expected scowl, the tribune gave her a wide grin.

"A fair point. In fact," she conceded, "a rather intelligent question. Perhaps this will not prove as troublesome as I first thought."

"I'll do my best, ma'am."

"I expect nothing less." The table was finally set. Slaves set roasted, steaming pork upon wooden dishes, with bowls filled with courses of fruits and light grains. "But first, we eat." She smiled. "I expect you're hungry." Ruby nodded vigorously. "Thank Mara for the meal. It is her boar we sacrificed."

She obeyed, raising her eyes to the canvas ceiling. With a whispered prayer, she thanked Weiss and Mara for allowing her such a victory today, and the meat placed before her. The tribune looked at her expectantly.

"The couch, Centurion." Oh, right! Damn it! All of the meals Ruby ate at home were short and simple affairs, where her father and sister would spoon up whatever bread and vegetables they could scrape together. She'd heard stories of lavish dinner parties, where guests would lay upon couches and feast upon course after course of-

"Centurion Rose?" Caught stalling!

"Uh…" She reclined on the couch provided to her by a thracian slave, not certain where to put her arms. Her hesitation didn't hinder her too much, as she was soon gorging herself on the succulent meat. It may have been her imagination, but she could have sworn Weiss was suppressing a giggle. She couldn't tell, she was too busy eating. Her eyes closed, savoring the tastes that played against her tongue.

The tribune herself ate daintily, each gesture practiced and fluid.

"So, Centurion, have you read the Iliad?"

"I have… not, ma'am." Ruby said between mouthfuls.

"The histories then? Anabasis, The Rise of Alexander, Caesar's Commentaries on the Gallic War?" Ruby shook her head, mouth full of pork. "What of the recent Aenead?"

"I haven't, ma'am. I… um…" She paused, trying not to make eye contact. "I'm unable to read."

"Oh." Weiss' head sank low, a quiet sigh escaping her. "Well, it appears we have a long way to go." She took a bite of meat, plucking it from between her fingers. "A very long way to go."

"My apologies. Before the Legio Pharus, I was a farmer, living on the outskirts of Rome. Education was a luxury my father could not afford." Weiss waved her hand, dismissing her apology.

"It simply means we will start with more practical lessons. Though, it would have been much easier if you were literate." Ruby grinned in uneasy embarrassment, rubbing the back of her head as her cheeks flushed a rosy red.

"Again, my apologies, ma'am." Weiss nodded, now fully resigned to her duty.

"You are in good hands, Centurion Rose. I have been raised from a very young age to be a warrior. I am a Daughter of Mara, and will convey the knowledge such a title implies upon you." Ruby paled. Only a few women, born strong of heart and mind could earn the epithet 'Daughter of Mara' from the priestesses that resided within the temple at the heart of Rome. It was an honor, gifted to those strong enough to bear witness to countless horrific trials. Perhaps it was been one of those trials that left that scar across her eye. "You have my solemn word. On my honor, I will forge you into a fearsome and mighty officer. The first step of course, is discipline…"

Blake did not know what to make of her new master. On one hand, she had bound and captured her, pressing the young faunus girl once again into servitude and slavery. On the other, she was the friendliest, most gregarious person she had ever met in her life. Even now, she was handing her a skin of wine, leftovers of the celebration held across the Legio Pharus. Watch fires burned on the edge of the Legion's camp, but the Fourth Centuria sat well within the center of camp, enjoying a few petty luxuries after their success in the field.

"For the pain." Yang said with a sad smile, pointing at the small of her neck. Oh right. The skin on her back burned and wept, worn ragged by the abuse of the needle-man. In the end, it was yet another marking, yet another indication that she was just a piece of property. Taking the wine, she drank deep. It was vinegary and bitter. The vintages she had tasted at her master's villa in Lugdunum were much sweeter, but as she appraised her new master, she could not help but prefer the cheaper swill. Why?

Yang had saved her from the horrors of crucifixion. Why did she go out of her way to save me? It was not out of the goodness of her heart; Blake was not a naïve child. So then, what was it? What possessed this flaxen-haired beauty to save my life? And furthermore, why did I bow low? Why subjugate myself further? I should have made her kill me. Blake thought, scowling.

Here I sit, drinking wine with the very men who butchered my brothers, and will crucify the rest. It disgusted her, sending her stomach into a brutal boil. I wonder what happened to Adam. Probably nothing good. She spat. The dark-skinned faunus had taken her under his wing, showed her how to be free. Now he was surely dead, just one more corpse among thousands. The thought darkened her heart. More wine.

"How's it taste?"

"It sickens me." Yang nudged her, beaming.

"Then it's good wine. All yours." And for that matter, her new master had asked only one thing of her: undo a single strap of her armor.

"Why are you wasting all the wine on a slave?" The leader asked. He was thickset man, with wide shoulders and a hard stare.

"Go chew on a sponge, Cardin. 'S my wine, and I'll do what I want with it." Yang spat, cheeks flushed red from drunkenness. There she went again. Defending her, protecting her. Blake sighed, sitting back on the grass. Escape isn't possible just yet. I can follow the Legion for awhile, then possibly slip away once we're free of Gallia Narbonesis. Maybe I can make it back home… The thought was a reassuring one, stilling her mind as she drank with an enemy that was desperate to make a friend of her.

The cool metal of her finger knife sat against her thigh, thirsting for Roman blood. She did not know what to make of her new master, but soon enough, that question would be irrelevant.

A/N: I'm having a total blast with this story. Hope you are too! How'd you like the chapter? Please, let me know! Without reviews, I can't continue the story. :( I have some really fun stuff too! Like a side pairing I haven't seen once in the RWBY fandom (which is like finding a pink unicorn that is also an astronaut)

Don't worry though, pairings come second to the real focus of this story: historical badassery! (However, fair warning, lemons will be a thing at some point!)

Random thought, I really dig Jaune and Pyrrha's conversation. It started off a little shaky, but I'm liking it now, after multiple edits.

Glossary of Terms:

contuburinum: The "squad" of the Roman Legions. Comprised of eight soldiers who shared a tent.

decanus: The 'leader' of the contuburinum. Not really their superior, just in charge of setting up the tent. Held virtually no power.

denarii: Silver coin used throughout Roman history. Worth (vaguely) about $20-$40 in modern money, and was a full day's pay for a legionary.

lorica hamata: The actual latin name for the chainmail armor worn by legionaries of the republican and early empire eras. Note: When most people think of roman soldiers, they picture the lorica segmentata, armor which was not introduced until around 100 AD.

Lugdunum: A very large city in Roman Gaul. Founded thirty-one years ago at the time of this story.

Anachronisms, issues to address, and other misc. addendum.

Tattooing Slaves: Along with brands, this was a common practice to mark slaves. It was most often done on the foreheard, where the slave could not hide it. Yang is a kinder soul, and spares Blake such a fate.

Yang possessing bandages: While some legionnaires were trained medics, and others trained surgeons, all legionaries carried a satchel full of bandages and other misc. medical equipment.

"Go Chew on a Sponge": Romans did not use toilet paper. Instead, they speared a sponge on a stick, and dipped it in cold water. Yang is telling Cardin to chew on toilet paper... except the sponges were always shared. Icky.

Danube River: I was worried the river had a different, latin name, but turns out it was named by the Romans!

Review Replies:

ocomfv: Thanks so much! Hope you enjoyed the snippet of her perspective! :D

metimesthree: I have a lot of cool shit planned out. I hope you like it!

SovietSniper92: As always, thanks so much for your in-depth reviews! I hope you liked the new perspectives! I wanted to get them in earlier, but there wasn't a good place to do it without bloating the chapter. Don't worry, nothing will be out of place for the times. It won't reach Blood Rose levels of fucked up, and it won't be sunshine and rainbows like canon RWBY. Thanks so much for your kind words!

Via: Wow, that's pretty much exactly what I was going for. I'm glad you picked up on it! I too am enjoying Weiss. In canon, she's just kinda bitchy and uptight, but the AU gives her 'tude some context that I really enjoy writing.

CommadantGreve: Glad you like! Hope you're learning something too! haha

Thanks again for the reveiws, guys! Keep 'em coming, more reviews = a more frequently updated story. And if your favorite character hasn't arrived yet, don't worry, they'll be here soon enough! Hell, I just wrote my favorite introduction so far... but that's not for a few more chapters! ;)

Next Chapter: A brief and grisly reunion...