A Fairly Reasonable Crashout (RWBY Adam SI) ch 33

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The wagon creaked as it approached the gate.

"Halt!" the guard barked, stepping forward. Then his posture softened as he recognized the driver. "Ah, it's you again, Braun. What is it this time—cabbages, as usual?"

Elliot Braun chuckled, the sound rich and easy. "You know us, John. Cabbages are our bread and butter."

The guard, John, shook his head with a smirk, stepping closer to inspect the wagon. His eyes flicked to the figure sitting beside Braun, and his brow furrowed.

"And who's this?" John asked, his tone curious but sharp.

"Ah, her?" Braun grinned, nudging his companion gently. "This here is my wife. Meet Mrs. Braun."

Nerissa offered a polite wave, her expression stoic but not unfriendly.

John let out a low whistle. "Well, you're a lucky man, Braun." He gave her a quick once-over, noting the hard-cut muscle on her arms and shoulders, the kind that came from a life of labor. "That's a proper woman, right there."

Before anyone could reply, a shout came from the line behind them.

"Hey, move it up already! We've got produce to sell too!"

John snapped his head toward the voices. "Shut your trap, unless you want to be the one kicked out!" he barked, his voice carrying the sharpness of authority. The complainers grumbled but fell silent.

Turning back to Braun, John gave an apologetic shrug. "Sorry about that. You know how it gets. Now, the toll, please."

"Of course," Braun replied, handing over the required Lien. John examined it briefly, then gave a nod and waved them through.

The wagon creaked forward, wheels grinding against the dirt path as it crossed into the bustling town of Massina.

Nerissa Selkie exhaled sharply, her sharp eyes scanning the streets. To her, Massina looked no different from the other towns they'd passed through—Cius, Catania…nothing set it apart. Same narrow alleys of tan stone and red bricks. Though...

"They only post one guard at the gates?" she asked, her tone laced with mild disbelief.

Braun shrugged, reins loose in his hands. "Sometimes two or three, depending on the day. Guess they're stretched thin."

"Stretched thin doesn't explain it," Nerissa muttered, her gaze lingering on the gate behind them. Though if they were stretched thin, that implied they were stripping the garrison for some other duty. She turned her attention back to the street. It was cleaner than she'd expected, with bins arranged neatly in front of shops, and certainly did not look like a town under siege. The townsfolk moved about in unhurried clusters, their voices low, their steps deliberate. Yet something felt...off. They avoided eye contact with strangers, and conversation seemed to die when the wagon passed, with other things of note.

No faunus.

"Not a single faunus?" Nerissa asked, scanning the streets.

"They are a pure human town, as my cousin said," Braun repeated before pausing. "Well, they did have Faunus. But that was in...you know, days gone past."

Nerissa's lips pressed into a thin line as they passed by a raised platform with rusted cages nearby. She turned away, ignoring how her mind conjured up images of faunus in chains.

"What, the attitudes never changed here?" she asked. 

"We're in the backwoods, Madam," Braun hummed. "Things are slow to move here."

They drove the wagon deeper into the town, heading toward the market square. The streets grew narrower, and the buzz of conversation swelled as they approached.

Braun glanced at her, his expression shifting to something more serious. "Listen, keep close while we're here. The other guards won't know you, and strangers stand out in Massina. You don't want them asking questions."

She raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Noted."

When they reached the market, Nerissa hopped down from the wagon, her boots landing firmly on the dirt-packed road. Around them, the square was alive with activity. Stalls lined the perimeter, each shaded by faded canvas awnings. Merchants called out in loud, practiced voices, advertising their goods: baskets of vegetables, bundles of herbs, bolts of coarse fabric, and the occasional hunk of salted meat.

From a distance, the market seemed to function normally—busy, orderly, and vibrant—but as Nerissa moved closer, she began to notice the cracks in the facade.

The goods on display were all local, she realized. There wasn't a single imported item in sight—no fine silks, no exotic spices, no foreign trinkets. The shelves were sparse, and what was there looked plain and worn. Even the vegetables, though neatly arranged, bore the telltale marks of overworked soil.

"All local," she murmured, her tone neutral but her mind turning.

Braun, unloading a crate of cabbages from the wagon, gave her a sidelong glance. "That's how it's been since the Doux came in. Trade routes are locked down, and anything coming through has to go to the Doux's estates first. Whatever's left trickles down here." 

Nerissa frowned, and turned her attention to the people. The townsfolk moved about the market at a steady pace, baskets clutched tightly in hand. They haggled quietly, their voices low, their expressions tense. There was no laughter, no casual conversation. Even the children, darting between stalls, played with a kind of muted restraint.

Nerissa crossed her arms, watching as an older woman hesitated in front of a stall selling eggs. She counted out her lien cards twice, her lips tight, before reluctantly handing them over. The merchant, a wiry man with a weathered face, gave her an apologetic shrug before turning to the next customer.

"People here don't seem happy," Nerissa noted.

Braun sighed, setting another crate on the cobblestones. "They're not. The Doux have squeezed the town for everything it's worth. The mayor used to keep things steady but he was rather weak when it came to protecting the town. Then the Doux arrived." 

She nodded again, her jaw tightening. Her instincts told all but told her the mayor was not as proactive as Rider back in Cius, and that had allowed the nobility to leak back in. 

As the two of them finished unloading the wagon, Nerissa cast another glance around the market. On the surface, Massina seemed solid—strong, stable, human. But beneath that, she could feel the cracks. 

Across the square, two children raced past her, their laughter subdued but still genuine. One of them bumped into a guard standing at the edge of the market, and Nerissa stiffened, expecting trouble. But the guard simply stepped aside, ruffling the boy's hair with a faint smile. The guard, dressed in polished leather armor with the Doux family crest stitched to his chest, resumed his position near the stall. His posture was professional, his gaze watchful but not unfriendly.

Nerissa's brow furrowed as she passed. The guards weren't the usual brutes she'd expect. These ones stood straight, their weapons polished, their presence calming rather than threatening.

A voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Fresh bread, miss?"

She turned to see a baker, his face ruddy from the heat of his ovens, holding up a loaf of warm, crusty bread.

"How much?" she asked, her tone measured.

"Ten lien" he replied, wiping his hands on his apron.

Her brow arched. "That's steep for bread."

The baker shrugged, not unkindly. "Everything's steep these days, but you'll find no better loaf in Massina."

Nerissa hesitated, then handed over the cards. He wrapped the bread in a cloth and handed it to her, nodding politely. "Thank you, miss. Enjoy."

As she moved away, she caught sight of an older man seated on a bench near the edge of the square. He was sharpening a scythe, the metallic rasp of stone on steel cutting through the murmurs of the market.

"Prices too high for you?" he asked, not looking up.

Nerissa stopped, glancing down at him. "Seems like they'd be high for anyone."

The man chuckled, the sound low and dry. "Aye, they are. But there's no thieves here. No bandits cutting throats in the night. You pay a little more, sure, but you sleep easy. That's worth something, isn't it?"

She crossed her arms, tilting her head. "And the Doux? You're fine with them running things?"

The man met her gaze then, his eyes sharp despite his age. "They're nobles," he said simply. "Not saints, but they're not animals either. They keep the peace, keep the roads clear. And the guards? They do their jobs." He nodded toward the square. "Look around. Do you see anyone starving? Anyone bleeding?"

Nerissa's gaze shifted across the market again. The people moved with purpose, their faces calm. No one looked over their shoulder, no one flinched at the sight of the guards. The streets were clean, the stalls orderly. The man returned to his scythe, speaking again as he worked. "The mayor, he was a good man, but he didn't have the spine to hold this town together when things got rough. The Doux do. That's what matters."

​She returned to Braun, who at this point, had began to hawk, and she played her part as well. Trade wasn't exactly exciting but it was consistent and their supplies were running low. 

Braun clapped his hands together, brushing off dirt.

"That's done," he said with a satisfied nod. "Come on, Mrs Braun. Let's get a drink—there's only one decent tavern in this town, and we've earned it."

Nerissa followed him down a narrow street that led away from the square. The sounds of the market faded, replaced by the quieter hum of side roads. The buildings here were sturdier, their stone walls patched but well-maintained, with ivy creeping up where repairs had been neglected.

Braun stopped in front of a squat building with a sign hanging above the door: a painted mug overflowing with froth. The paint was chipped, but the sign swung gently in the breeze, inviting enough.

"The Gilded Stein," Braun announced, pushing the door open. Warm light spilled out, along with the low hum of conversation and the faint strumming of a lute.

Inside, the tavern was lively but subdued. Farmers and merchants sat at worn wooden tables, talking in low voices over mugs of ale. A musician sat in the corner, plucking a cheerful tune on his lute, though no one seemed to pay him much attention. The scent of roasted meat and bread filled the air, mingled with the faint tang of spilled ale.

Nerissa let her gaze wander as she followed Braun to a table near the wall. The tavern was clean—cleaner than she'd expected—but the furnishings were unmistakably old. The wood of the chairs and tables was polished smooth from years of use, and the floor bore scuff marks that told of countless boots.

Braun waved down a barmaid, a young woman with an easy smile and hair tied back in a simple braid.

"Two ales and whatever food you've got that's hot," he said.

She nodded briskly and disappeared behind the bar.

Nerissa leaned back in her chair, her eyes scanning the room. The people here looked tired, but not defeated. A group of men at one table laughed quietly, clinking their mugs together. At another, a woman showed off a small hand-carved figurine to her companions, who nodded and murmured appreciatively.

"Hard times," Braun said, as if reading her thoughts, "but people don't stop living. They'll find something to laugh about, something to hold onto, even if it's just a mug of ale after a long day."

The barmaid returned, placing two mugs of frothy ale on the table alongside a plate of steaming stew and a loaf of bread.

"Eat," Braun said, pushing the plate toward Nerissa. "Market days are long, and you're no good to anyone on an empty stomach."

Nerissa took a sip of the ale first. It was bitter but crisp, the kind of drink meant to quench thirst rather than savor. She tore off a piece of bread, dipping it into the stew. It was simple fare—potatoes, carrots, and some tough-looking meat—but the broth was rich and warming.

As they ate, the door to the tavern opened, letting in a gust of cool evening air. A man entered, dressed in the polished armor of the Doux's guards. The room quieted slightly, but only for a moment. The guard nodded to the bartender, then took a seat at the far end of the room.

Nerissa watched him out of the corner of her eye. He didn't seem threatening—if anything, he looked relaxed, leaning back in his chair as he spoke briefly with the barmaid.

"They even drink where the rest of us do," Braun said quietly, noticing her gaze. "You won't see that in every town. Here, the guards know better than to keep themselves apart. They drink here, they talk here. Makes them part of the town, in a way."

"Smart," Nerissa murmured. She could see it now—the guards weren't just enforcers of the Doux's will. They were woven into the fabric of the town, familiar faces that didn't inspire fear but a grudging sort of respect.

At the next table over, a man began telling a story, his voice rising just enough for the room to hear. Something about a farmer and a missing cow. The punchline earned scattered chuckles, and even Nerissa found herself smirking.

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Flame flickered in the hearth nearby, casting soft orange light across the room. Adam stood by the table, hands braced against the edge, and overlooking a map laid bare. Sienna leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, silent. Malik paced behind them, boots tapping against the floor with quiet rhythm, and before them, Nerissa, back straight and arms folded behind her back.

Nerissa gave her report. "One guard at the entrance. Some patrols in the market, six that I counted. All wearing the Doux's colors. They're not drunkards. Their uniforms are clean and armor polished."

"They act like they belong," Sienna muttered.

Nerissa nodded once. "They do. They drink with the townsfolk. Same taverns. Same tables. Locals don't flinch when they walk by. They don't defer, either. It's more familiar than obedient."

Malik scoffed. "Friendly guards?"

"They're not friendly to the point of total fraternization," Nerissa said. "They're more integrated. Town feels like it's accepted them. Not cheering but not resisting either"

Adam said nothing.

Sienna finally stepped forward from the wall, brow furrowed, arms still folded tight. "And the people?"

"Tired. They're not starving and the market's working, just thinned out. All local produce and no imported goods. Somewhat high prices but the people deal with it."

Malik turned. "Any sign of the last ruler?" 

Nerissa's gaze moved to him. "Apparently, he is still around but side-lined. That is all I could see when I came there. If we need more info, we need more time." 

Sienna's jaw tightened.

Malik exhaled sharply, throwing up his hands. "So what I'm hearing is we're going to burn effort liberating a town that already sold itself to the Doux." 

Nerissa made no comment, other than remaining at attention. 

Sienna glanced toward Adam, who also remained quiet, then back at Malik. "It's not about whether they asked for help, Ashina. We can go to Panormus, yes, but are we really going to trust our rear security to a town controlled by nobles? Remember, we do still have his son and his men. He is not going to act kindly when he learns about that." 

"Ah, but he attacked us first, Sienna," Malik pointed out. 

"Enough," Adam finally but in, his voice strong. He turned to the Mantlese woman. "Nerissa, thank you. If we need you, I'll call for you," 

"Yes, sir," Nerissa saluted before walking out, to Adam's chagrin.

​Sienna snorted. "Get used to it, Taurus." 

"That display aside," Adam coughed. "We will still have to respond. They started a fight when they sent riders here. If we do not go on the offensive, the validity of the Union comes into question too." 

​Malik clicked his tongue. He still felt strongly that Massina was a waste of time. But framed in that way...

"Okay," Malik sighed. "Say we go and try to take the town, how exactly? From what Nerissa has told us, the people there tolerate the Doux for protecting them. And judging from their equipment, I can only assume the people they are fighting are better armed than the ones we fought." 

Sienna pulled a nearby chair and sat, arms still crossed, and expression stoic. "And the guards themselves are disciplined. Not rabble." she muttered.

​Her eyes landed on Adam. "So how do we do this, Adam?" 

Adam straightened, his hands still braced on the table. The flickering hearthlight played across his face, deepening the shadows under his eyes. He exhaled slowly, his gaze fixed on the worn map spread across the table.

"Massina isn't a town we can overwhelm with brute force," he said finally, his tone low but steady. "The people there don't seem desperate enough to turn on the Doux, and the guards don't seem sloppy enough to exploit with a single push. If we try to storm the gates, we'll fight disciplined defenders while the townsfolk either hide or quietly cheer for the ones keeping them safe."

"And in their perspective, we would be invaders," Malik pointed out.

"Exactly," Adam agreed. "So we're going to have to be creative."

Sienna leaned in, with interest. "Do tell."

Adam relaxed as he began to pace slowly, his boots echoing faintly in the room.

"We exploit the cracks," Adam said, his voice gaining weight. "Nerissa said it herself. The people tolerate the Doux. They're not starving, they're not bleeding, but they're not happy, either. They're tired. They're paying high prices for protection and order, but they're not thriving. The Doux isn't giving them a better life—he's giving them just enough to keep them from rising up. That's a fragile balance."

Sienna uncrossed her arms, leaning forward slightly. "You're suggesting we upset that balance."

Adam nodded. "Exactly. We don't attack the town directly. We cut off the Doux's ability to maintain control. Hit the supply lines. Burn the caravans. Take down the patrols on the roads. Make it so the goods stop flowing, the guards stop getting paid, and the people start feeling the cracks in the system."

Malik arched an eyebrow. "So you want to starve them out? Make them desperate?"

"No," Adam said sharply, his tone brooking no argument. "We don't starve the people. We starve the Doux. We make it clear that he can't protect them, that his promises of order and security are hollow. But we also offer them an alternative."

Sienna tilted her head. "And what does that alternative look like?"

Adam paused, his hands resting on the back of a chair as he met her gaze. "We show the people that we're not just another army looking to take what's theirs. We set up food distribution outside the town—free food, not taxed or rationed. We make it clear that the Doux is the one keeping them trapped, while we're the ones offering a way out. We talk to the farmers, the merchants, the ones who keep the market running. Convince them that we're not here to destroy the town, but to free it."

Malik snorted. "You think that's going to be enough? They're not going to just welcome us with open arms because we wave some bread at them."

"They won't at first," Adam admitted. "But the cracks are already there. We don't need them to cheer for us. We just need them to stop fighting for the Doux. If the guards lose the town's support, we've already won half the battle."

Sienna leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "And the guards themselves? They're not just going to roll over and let us take the town, even if the people do."

Adam nodded. "We isolate them. Once the town starts to slip out of the Doux's grasp, the guards will feel the pressure. Some of them might even question why they're risking their lives for a cause that's falling apart. And when the time comes to confront them directly, we make it clear that surrender is their best option."

Malik shook his head, his expression skeptical. "That's a lot of moving parts, Adam. A lot of things that could go wrong."

"It's better than the alternative," Adam said firmly. "If we charge in head-on, we'll lose people. Maybe more than we can afford. And even if we win, what happens next? The people will resent us for tearing apart their town. But if we do this right, Massina will turn itself over to us. We won't have to take it—we'll just be there to catch it when it falls."

Sienna studied him for a long moment, then gave a slow nod. "It's a gamble. But it's a smart one. And it buys us time to deal with the Doux's forces elsewhere."

"We continue our surveillance of the town," Adam's fingers clicked. "Maybe more opportunities can pop if we listen."

Sienna nodded. 

This seemed solid enough. Then she stood, her chair scraping softly against the floor.

"Alright," she said, her voice quiet but firm. "Let's break the Doux's hold on Massina."

"I'll prepare the guys," Malik sighed, running a hand through his hair. "This is going to take some time though, you know that right?" 

"It's not as if we are in a hurry," Adam shrugged. "And this is a good time to refine our operability before we reach Panormus. If this was a story, we're in the middle of our heroes journey, Malik." 

"Some heroes we are," he snorted. "And poor heroes too. Who would even read this, Adam?"

Adam smiled. "Men and women of great taste and refinement." 

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A/N: We're going to do some trickery here, tihi.