RWBY: Silver Eyes on the Mountains

Though the great mountains dominated this region of Sanus, their lifeline for many things came from the lowlands. The vital trade of ores, wool, and stone from the highlands were to be used to purchase vital foodstuffs from the mineral spring-fed rivers that cascaded from the great peaks. These fertile lowlands, in equal part of the volcanic past to create the fertile soils, led to many living under the imposing peaks. One such village was that of Valestone, a bustling town of agriculture, trade, and a place for weary feet of man and beast to rest.

However, as the storm clouds began to hover and collect into their dark, horrible forms, a large column of men and beasts marched on the town. Mercenaries for sure, as even the simplest rent paying peasants could clearly see, but of a kind none had seen before. They wore resplendent blue, a purer azure than even that of the sky. Great curved swords, mighty bows and gleaming spears of foreign, unknown design held by firm, powerful warrior hands. Many of their eyes and hair matched that of their armor, unusual features for men of these parts. Powerful, well-bred horses held the flanks and the front.

At the front, each atop two such stalwart steeds, sat two men of visibly unusually noble lineage for mercenaries. Even atop their mighty steeds, one could tell that these two were tall, though one was slightly taller than the other. The taller of the two was a bit bulkier, obviously built more for strength while his compatriot was built more for speed. The slightly shorter one had wavy, royal azure blue hair pulled back into a topknot haircut and kind but strong dark azure eyes that made one think of the cold, dark seas of the north. His most distinguishing feature was a set of battle scars covering the left half of his face. Battle scars in the shape of four horizontal claw marks.

The other, slightly taller one had long, spiky hair of the most brilliant silver pulled into that same topknot haircut and eyes the same gleaming shade of green as emeralds, like two jewels had been fashioned into eyes. His face, unlike his counterpart, had no visible scars other than a sword scar on his right cheek. The differences aside, the two had identical and equally regal faces. The only other noticeable differences were their weapons.

The shorter of the two had three curved eastern blades of varying lengths worn at his left hip, a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back, and a strange weapon resembling a glaive with a sword-like blade at the tip of its haft in his hand. The other had a truly large curved eastern blade on his back with the hilt peeking out over his left shoulder, a bow and a quiver of arrows on his back on the right side, a short curved eastern blade at his left hip, and another of those strange glaive-like weapons held in his hand. The two rode atop their stalwart mounts with the regality and grace of nobility chosen by the heavens, as if they were champions of the gods sent down to the mortal plane.

"It doesn't look like we are going to outrun that storm, brother. And, judging by the last few towns in this region, they can't handle all of our troops. We should make camp swiftly." The sword-scarred man said, turning to face the claw scarred man next to him.

"That does indeed seem to be the case, Kenshi. It appears we will need to stop for the night elsewhere." The claw-scarred man replied with a heavy sigh.

"Hatamoto! Set up camp in that clearing by the creek!" The man called Kenshi barked to an officer behind him, pointing to a clearing off to the side of the road, cutting into a small creek and forest like a crescent.

The man in question bowed to the silver-haired cavalryman. "Yes, Lord Kenshi!" The man replied before walking back, not daring to raise his head in the lord's presence until the moment Kenshi gave the order.

"Shall we engage in some tavern recon, Azura? Or do you wish to romp around the woods again?" Kenshi asked his brother with a hint of snark.

"A trip to the tavern sounds much more appealing at the moment, Kenshi. Come." The man now known as Azura replied.

"Once you've set up camp, organize a tavern rotation." Kenshi ordered the officers, who were planning out how the camp would be set up.

The officers in question bowed to their lords as the two lords dismounted their horses and entrusted them to their subordinates.

"Put it on the quartermaster's tab. Juko keeps saying we've gotten a good haul from the last contract, so the least we can do is keep him honest." Kenshi said with a devilish smile.

One of the officers nodded. "Of course, Lord Kenshi." The man replied obediently.

With that, the two leaders strode into two. Weeks on the road left them with a need for a good hot meal and some refreshing drink. Ones that they didn't have to make or fetch themselves specifically. Scanning the main road through the settlement, they only really noticed one large tavern. One by the name of the Stone-Cold Rooster. A squat stone building, with little external ornamentation, save for a hanging sign with a comically dead rooster with X's over its eyes.

"The people of Vale have a bizarre sense of humor." Kenshi muttered as they neared the entrance.

"I find it delightful. Their sense of humor amuses me, brother." Azura replied quietly with a smile.

"Of course it does." Kenshi said with a roll of his eyes as he opened the swinging doors, allowing them to walk in.

Row upon row of tables filled the main room, lit by flickering candles and decorated with taxidermized specimens of local fauna. A large bar with stools ringed a quarter of the room, with large doors leading into the kitchen. People aplenty were in tonight, mostly tradesmen, farmers, and merchants after a long day of work, needing a load off. Seeing only spots at the bar, the two walked through to reach it, weaving through crowded alleys of chairs and busy serving girls.

"I never understood these people's fascination with sitting at the bar." Kenshi growled as he sat down on the stool, groaning under his weight. 

"Come now, brother. It's not so bad." Azura replied as he took a seat next to Kenshi, his own chair groaning under his weight.

"What is with your obsession with the local culture, brother?" Kenshi asked him, turning to look at his brother's smiling mug.

"I like how exotic it is compared to back home. It can be a tad bit repetitive dealing with the same thing for too long." Azura replied with a smile as he looked over the menu to see what the tavern offered.

"Exotic? How can you call all this exotic?" Kenshi grumbled, looking at the menu. "Curse this infernal western tongue…"

"You think too negatively, Kenshi. You should look on the brighter side of things more." Azura assured his brother, having spied something that caught his eye on the menu.

"Speaking of negatives, where is the bartender?" Kenshi asked, looking around to see no one behind the counter.

"Pardon me, sirs. You don't seem to be from around these parts." An elderly voice chimed in, alerting the two men to a presence behind them, one neither of them had detected.

The two jumped as they turned to see a painfully plain looking old man. Work worn brown skin stretched over him like a coat of leather, with no hair on his head save pepper and salt colored bushy eyebrows and beard. He wore a simple Pancho of blue, green, and yellow over a simple tunic and brown pants. Yet, despite the withered look he had, when he put his hands on their shoulders to comfort them, they swore he had the strength to bend iron. 

"Forgive us for not noticing you sooner. Are you the bartender?" Azura asked, trying to hide how on edge he was.

"Apologies, master mercenary, but I am not the usual bartender. He is sick in bed at home, so I am merely filling in." The old man said, stepping behind the counter.

"Then I wish him good fortune on getting well again." Azura answered, giving him a respectful nod.

The old man nodded back with equal respect. "Now what can I get you two? You look exhausted from what I can only assume is a large amount of time on the road and in the wilderness." He offered with a gentle smile.

"Indeed. I'll take the Chili Verde with a mug of ale." Kenshi bluntly said as he leaned back on his stool a bit.

"I would like to try your Carnita's special. With a mug of ale like my brother." Azura answered politely.

The bartender smiled and nodded. "Coming right up, my lords. Although I must say… it is rather strange to see eastern mercenaries in this part of Vale." He replied, setting about to prepare their food and drinks.

"So, we have been told time and time again." Kenshi groaned, before being smacked by Azura.

"Hush, Kenshi. I apologize for my brother's negative behavior. He's simply cranky after a long journey." Azura said, giving his brother a look as he did.

"Oh, think nothing of it. I understand. In fact, I find it delightful to have easternmen here in our quiet little town. We don't get much traffic here, due to being just outside of the Golden Nobles' influence." The old man told them, setting their food and drinks down in front of them, having prepared them so fast it was almost as though he knew what they would say before they said it.

"Golden Nobles?" Azura asked, raising a curious eyebrow.

"You shut your mouth old man. I don't need to be dragged on another…" Kenshi said, before an armored hand clamped down around his mouth.

"I said hush, Kenshi. Do not make me say it again." Azura sternly told his brother, before taking his hand out of his mouth. "Again, I apologize for my brother's behavior."

"Think nothing of it, my lord. Though you must be from quite far away to not have heard of the Golden Nobles." The old man replied, looking around subtly to make sure no one was listening in.

This caused a sudden change on Azura's face from simple to very active curiosity. Almost like a cat having found something that piqued its interest, Azura leaned in a bit to listen to the man. His eyes not straying from him, locked in for however long it would take.

The old man leaned in and whispered, as if wary of potential spies or listeners. "The Golden Nobles are a lot who have held an iron fisted hold on the nearby peaks for generations. Supposedly, they're descendants of the gods who were chosen by heaven to rule around these parts. Nothing but a bunch of rotten, fatheaded tyrants with sticks up their arses if you ask me." The old man quietly told the two young lords.

"What makes them believe that?" Azura asked, a hint of personal insult clung to his voice as he spoke.

"They overtax their peasants to the point where some of them can barely survive, treat their servants and serfs like cattle to be disposed of when they've outlived their usefulness, execute any who dare oppose their tyrannical rule, and act like they can just take whatever they want and do whatever they want without suffering any consequences. Claim that they were 'chosen by heaven' and are 'exercising their gods given rights' and other bloody nonsense like that." The old man quietly explained, a bit of anger leaking into his voice.

Azura clenched his hand into a fist, trying to keep back the anger he felt just from hearing it. His eyes burned with a cold fire as he spoke.

"It sounds more to me like they insult heaven with their actions instead of exercising any rights. Has anyone stood up to this madness?" Azura asked, anger leaking with each word.

"A long time ago, a tribe of people did try. A bunch of bravehearted people with eyes of the finest, purest silver. They were the only men and women who dared stand up to the Golden Nobles. Unfortunately, their rebellion failed, and their tribe of Silver-Eyed Warriors was hunted to near extinction by the Golden Nobles. Now, if they so much as hear about anyone with the Silver Eyes lurking about in their territory, they have them treated like criminals just for being born into 'their' world." The old man told the two quietly, clear anger and disgust at the actions of these so-called "Nobles" ringing in his voice.

"Barbarians. Scum of the worst kind…" Azura growled, his normal kind demeanor having burned away to one of determined rage. His face slowly turned red from hearing these horrible acts of these brutes.

Even Kenshi, sardonic and melancholy from the long journey, was visibly perturbed by what he had heard. To all those in the room, it was as if it struck a deep nerve. The aura that clung to them had changed from a majestic regality to that of a primal wrath.

"What direction do we have to take to find them?" Kenshi growled fiercely.

"You need simply take the road heading north out of town. The path to the peaks is on the right side of the fork in the road. You can't miss it." The old man told them.

Azura and Kenshi then soon devoured their food at a rate one could not expect. They ate as if they only half remembered how to eat like civilized men. However, they only ate the food as a formality, they had something else on their minds. After consuming their food and drink, Azura pulled out a stack of gold coins from a pouch and slammed them on the table.

"Keep the change. Thank you for telling us of this injustice. I swear to you, on the honor of our ancestors, we will right this stain upon the land known as these 'Golden Nobles'." Azura sternly and proudly declared, with not an ounce of hesitation in his voice.

"I call first crack on killing one." Kenshi said as he turned to walk out.

"Not going to happen." Azura growled as the two left the room as the storm began to pick up in intensity.

The old man smirked as he grabbed onto the gold coins and slipped them into his pockets. "The gods and the Wrath of Heaven are on your side, young Sōtora lords. Now go forth with the speed of lightning. So, says Tōtoi Raiha-Shin…" The old bartender quietly declared.

Then, in a flash of lightning from outside, the old man was gone. As if he was never really there in the first place…